Whom History Won't Remember
by Alaia Skyhawk
Summary: Summary inside: Fans of A Question of Motives, this is officially a key part of my "A Question of..." Series. It tells past events for main characters, and reveals OCs that will be in Season 4 sub-eps and my planned fic "A Question of Destiny"
1. A Humble Beginning 'Part 1'

**Alaia Skyhawk: (Added) I'm pointing out now that this fic is now an IMPORTANT part of my series, seeing as a lot of my material for the Season 4 tweeking will be based on events and characters from this. It will also influence the sub-eps of "A Question of Destiny", the Seasons 1&2, and start of 3 fic I will start posting once this one is completed.**

**(End of addition)**

**Here it is, a story telling of Liam's life up until the point he makes his appearance in A Question of Motives. He who started out as a random OC, who I added purely to drive Arthur up the wall in my Sub-ep "Sick Leave", has grown into a character loved so much by so many of you that I've decided his story will be the one I write to tide you over until the start of Season 4. However, I have since learned that Season 4 will not be airing until January 2012 (adding four months or so to our wait) so I've decided that when this fic is done I will start to novelise Season 1 and Season 2 in the same format as A Question of Motives. That's right guys, S1 and S2 with those annoying "why didn't he just do 'this'" scenes edited, new scenes added, and a full set of Sub-episodes for each. **

**So now, without further ado... Let the story begin!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Merlin TV series etc, but I do own the star of this fic... LIAM!**

**~(-)~**

**Whom History Won't Remember.**

**History will never mention him, his name will never be regaled in song, but he is one who can say what few will ever be able to. That he served a certain king, was friend to a certain sorcerer. That he stood beside history's two greatest legends. Stood beside Arthur and Merlin.**

~(-)~

Chapter 1: A Humble Beginning ~Part 1~

This is the story of a young boy, a boy who would grow into a man. A man who will come to stand in the fabled kingdom of Camelot, as a trusted friend to the greatest sorcerer of all time. History will never speak of him, his name never remembered. He will be like so many others forgotten in the mists of the past, like the many others who played their small parts within the greater whole. Each with a destiny, no matter how small, a purpose along the road walked by those of greater fates. And while his purpose may have only been to be there as a friend, an ear who would listen, it did not matter. For even if he is never remembered, he was still in his small way a part of a great legend...

And so begins the story of Liam Morranson, the son of a carpenter father, a weaver mother. Cherished brother to his siblings and the youngest in the household, here in his home on the outskirts of the town of Ulwin in the lands belonging to the nobleman, Lord Hargren...

"Dad... Dad... Da-ad!"

A small hand tugged at the carpenter's sleeve, the man turning his head to look into the earnest green eyes of his youngest son. He smiled, setting down his wood plane and turning to face the seven-year-old boy.

"What is it, Liam?"

Tousled blond hair let stray strands hang over the child's face, Liam frowning a little as his expression became pleading.

"I want to help you make the cabinet for Lady Jancine."

Liam's father chuckled, ruffling his son's hair.

"You're too young, my son. Give it another couple of years and _then_ I'll let you risk you fingers. Go and help your sister spin thread for your mother. Your brother's did that with no complaints, so you can too. Just be patient, your turn will come."

Liam let out a long sigh, his eyes still pleading.

"But Daaaad..."

His father gave him a nudge in his sister's direction.

"No buts, Liam. Go help your sister."

The man returned to smoothing a length of wood destined to become one of the final parts of the cabinet the boy had mentioned, the carpenter being one of Ulwin's finest. Meanwhile his son slumped across the fairly large living area within the larger-than-average house. He didn't know how lucky he was, to be the son of two such well respected crafters, when so many others scrabbled to get by on their own much more meagre earnings.

Liam sighed, sitting himself on the stool beside his sister's, both of them placed with their backs to the impressive loom that dominated one end of the room. Their mother would weave finer fabrics on commission, but otherwise produced the quality of cloth which most of the commoners in town bought for their clothing. The family made more profit on the cloth if she purchased some of her wool raw rather than buy it all as ready-spun yarn, and thus her children had been taught from an early age to spin. It also kept the youths busy and out of trouble...

That was what Liam was now doing, trying not to pout in disappointment as he sat there turning a combed coil of wool into thread. His efforts were far from perfect, but it didn't matter. Commoners didn't care if the cloth they bought was made from uneven yarn. So long as it kept them warm. He yawned, then noticing his sister shaking her head and sticking his tongue out at her in retaliation. She gave her spindle a twist before using the same hand to absently clip him on the ear, the young boy hunching his shoulders before giving his own spindle a turn.

"This isn't fair."

She shook her head again.

"It's not about being fair, Liam. Mom needs thread to weave, and you don't see me complaining about doing this day in and day out. You'll learn carpentry from father eventually, but I won't because I'm going to be a weaver like mom. So stop whining."

She ignored him as he pouted, the young boy on the verge of sulking as he sat there spinning thread. Why was he always stuck with the boring chores? He never got to do _any_ of the interesting things his brothers got to. Sighing, he sat there and kept spinning until his coil of wool ran out, adding a new coil to the end of the old without really thinking about it.

He was on his fourth coil and his sister on her sixth when their mother came in, smiling warmly as she went over to her husband and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

"How's the morning been, Samer?"

He smiled back at her, setting aside the chisel he'd been using on his piece of wood.

"Quiet, Alina, except that our youngest still seems to be determined to lose some of his fingers."

Alina chuckled, turning to face her daughter and youngest son.

"Helen, Liam, get your shoes on. We need to take the cloth I wove last week to the merchant."

The boy of the two siblings tied off the end of his spun thread in a flash, darting across the room to where his sandals sat beneath one of the tables. So eager was he to get going, that after putting on and tying the first he half hopped across the room while trying to do the other. Meanwhile Helen retrieved her own sandals at a much more sedate pace, rolling her eyes at his antics.

As for their parents, the couple simply looked at one another and chuckled, used to this scene as it happened so often.

The two siblings soon headed out of the house with their mother, each carrying a basket filled with un-dyed cloth. They walked down the short street upon which their home lay, and onto the main street beyond which cut through the town and led to the small, walled estate that held their lord's manor.

Ulwin was a large trading town, entrusted to the care of Lord Hargren by King Uther of Camelot. The town and its lands still belonged to the king, but he had given them into Hargren's care as reward for the lord's long and loyal service to his kingdom. As such Lord Hargren was a king in all but name, permitted to maintain a small armed force of his own wearing his colours. The only real difference is that he paid a percentage of the tithe he got from the lands to Camelot. The amount was small though, and more symbolic than actual payment. Hargren and Uther considered each other as trusted friends, and each would go to the aid of the other without hesitation if asked.

The result was that Ulwin was a peaceful place to live, cradled within the stability that blessed Camelot. But even so it was far from perfect, for even Ulwin had its darker side.

Alina kept her children close as they headed for the market, her eyes always watching for would-be pickpockets. A gang of thieves worked this area regularly, but for the most part left the locals alone. Those who lived in Ulwin were too wary to catch off guard often, thus it was the visiting merchants and travellers who were stolen from most often.

The gang were well known though, by reputation at least, their leader a man who had those who followed him steal only to survive. For that reason Lord Hargren only ever made a token effort to capture the wily man and his gang. He knew that many of them had not ended up in their way of life by choice. Instead those he did catch were branded and set to work on the farms around Ulwin, the less redeemable among them sent to the mines instead. He was fair in his dealings with them, and those who lived in Ulwin who had items stolen were oft reimbursed for a portion of their worth. Woe to any who would abuse his generosity though... The last individual to be found guilty of such had immediately been sent to work ten years in the mines.

Alina crossed the main street and turned into the market square, leading her son and daughter to the building behind the section dominated by stalls selling cloth and clothing. The merchant in charge of the building smiled when he saw her, indicating she enter with a wave of his hand.

"Alina, good to see you are well. How much have you brought me this week?"

She smiled back, using a hand to gently bring her children forward to add their laden baskets to the one that she also carried.

"The usual forty yards, Greg. Is the price the same it was last week?"

He nodded, waving one of his assistants over to take charge of the cloth from the baskets.

"It is." He chuckled. "In fact I already have your payment ready. You can count it if you wish."

She accepted the pouch of coins, shaking her head.

"I know you'd never cheat me, Greg, not when there isn't another weaver in town that can keep up with me."

He laughed.

"Aye, that be true. I hear Lady Jancine has commissioned you to make the fabric for her new gown."

"She has. I'll stop by in a few days to let you know what colour silks I'll need. She wants a pattern of satin panels and velvet accents. It's going to take me _quite _some time to weave it, and I still need to set my loom up ready for it... She would wait far less time if she ordered it from the cloth merchant in Camelot."

"But she respects you and Samer, why else commission him to make that cabinet and you to make the cloth for her gown? There are crafters out there that would give their eye-teeth for the kind of trade you two get."

Liam stood beside his mother, eyes moving from her to Greg and back again as he listened. When it came to discussions about the politics of being favoured by the nobility, he was totally lost. Helen was showing more interest, lapping up every word and storing it away for later. There was no doubt that her goal was to become as well regarded as their mother one day, and she was learning all she could about it while she had the chance.

Their mother bid her farewells to the merchant, leading her children with their now empty baskets back to the house. She still had a loom to start preparing, and they both had chores. As if remembering that that was what he always had to do after the trips to the market, Liam's cheer faded into a small frown... A frown that became a pout when they got back home and he was handed a broom to sweep the floor.

~(-)~

**Alaia Skyhawk: Daww, seven-year-old Liam is so cute (Huggles little Liam) I'm going to enjoy writing this fic :D**


	2. A Humble Beginning 'Part 2'

**Alaia Skyhawk: Ok, I've decided to churn the first episode of this out quick because I want to get the initial setting of the story done. I'll post part 3 later today if I get it done... because although I said to myself I wouldn't update this until tomorrow, I was sat watching TV documentaries earlier and they were ALL repeats... and I was sat there bored out of my MIND! So here I am with this chapter, heeeee XD**

**Anyways, an anonymous reviewer requested I say the name(s) of the song(s) I write each chapter to. So with that in mind I can say that I'm doing all of these first three chapters to a folk song called "Dick's Maggot" if you type "folk" and that name into Youtube it'll come up. Although the version I listen to is done by Horseplay, a folk band that plays music from my region, and has a guitar in it rather than the accordion, and a flute as well as the violin. You'll get the idea though :)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Merlin TV series etc, but I do own the star of this fic... LIAM!**

~(-)~

Chapter 2: A Humble Beginning ~Part 2~

The twigs of the broom scraped over the floor, the young boy sighing as he did his chores. His father was still working on the almost finished cabinet, and his mother and sister were now scurrying around the big loom in the corner of the room.

Liam paused in his sweeping, watching them. The much smaller loom set near the big one would still be used to make cheap cloth when there was time, but the big loom with it's four harnesses would be needed for Lady Jancine's commission. The pattern she requested was simple enough for plain cloth, but for a mixture of satin weave and velvet it was ambitious. Alina would require Helen's help to make it, the girl to be positioned on a platform above the loom to hand-draw the warp threads to create the velvet accents.

Alina was just sorting out the wires she'd need to create the pile of the velvet when Liam's two brothers entered the house cheerfully, the eldest of them ruffling Liam's hair as he headed for the heart.

"You been keeping out of trouble, little brother?"

The other brother glanced at him, remarking cheekily.

"But I've been working with you all morning, so you know I've not been causing trouble."

"Shut up, Elias."

"Likewise, Alan."

Alina shook her head, addressing her fourteen and fifteen-year-old sons respectively.

"Elias, you know full well he was talking to Liam. Alan, that is no way to speak to your brother."

Alan put on a wounded expression, even as he set the pot of soup from the table over the fire in the hearth.

"Mom, I was only playing around."

"If you must, then do so at the workshop and not inside the house. I don't want Liam picking up on your lack of manners."

She had smiled as she reprimanded him, telling him she didn't completely mean it. Banter such as this was an everyday part of their lives, and not surprising with six of them in the house. As large as this cottage was, once the space taken up by the looms and Samer's special commission were accounted for, there wasn't a great deal of space left for the rest of them. The area curtained off at the back was barely big enough for all of them to sleep in, but they managed.

Shaking her head she returned to the loom, while meanwhile her youngest began pestering his brothers.

His green eyes enquiring, Liam tugged on Elias' sleeve to get his attention.

"What you been making this morning?"

The fourteen-year-old looked down at him.

"Just the usual stuff. Nothing interesting."

"Tell me, _please_."

Elias glanced at his brother, both of them sighing before he settled down to answer the boy's questions. Liam was still chattering away when the soup was ready, only staying quiet long enough to eat his share before he started right back up again.

It was clear that today his enthusiasm just _wasn't_ going to calm down, and realising that Alan turned to his father once the bowls had been washed.

"Liam can come with Elias and I to the workshop. We'll keep him occupied." He glanced at his mother and sister; now once again back at the loom. "He's going to drive mom to distraction otherwise."

Samer frowned.

"But you know he'd too young, Alan. There are too many things he could hurt himself with in there."

Elias came over to join them, adding his point to this brother's argument.

"We're only putting together those chairs to replace the broken ones in the servants quarters at the manor. I think he can be trusted with a wooden mallet. We'll make sure he doesn't get his hands on any of the saws or carving knives."

The carpenter sighed, finally nodding in acceptance.

"Fine, but he's to be back in time for supper... That means neither of you are allowed to go on your usual tavern visit tonight."

Elias gaped.

"But daaad!"

Samer raised a finger.

"But I _will_ let you go tomorrow instead, providing your brother comes home in once piece."

Both elder brothers grinned, grabbing a laughing Liam by an arm each and half carrying and swinging him to the door.

"You heard dad, Liam. You can come help us today."

When they set him down at the doorway, he darted straight out cheering at the top of his voice. Adam and Elias gave each other and their father one last look before hurrying after him. The last thing they needed was for him to get lost due to his excitement.

They caught up to him before he got to the end of the street, Elias placing a hand on his little brother's shoulder to prevent him from running ahead again. It was quite a walk to the workshop, involving crossing from the middle-class area their house was located in and entering the much more prosperous district right outside the walls of Lord Hargren's estate.

You could see those walls towering over the houses, a small number of guards patrolling the battlements atop them. Ulwin had not seen an attack or siege since the one that had happen four centuries past, but the lord was no fool and kept the defences maintained. Continuing down the main road that led to the portcullis gate though that wall, the brothers turned off into a side street dominated by workshops.

This area was exclusive to Ulwin's best, the crafters whose wares were bought by the residents of the manor. Lord Hargren owned every building in this street, and usage of them was granted on special lease by his approval only. If a new crafter came to the town, who proved themselves to be better skilled than a similar individual here, the lease would be given to the newcomer when the new year came around. Sure it created intense competition, but it also guaranteed that Ulwin would continue to attract the best tradesmen the region had to offer. After all, who _wouldn't _be attracted by the chance of being appointed as the crafter of choice for nobility... and paying half the normal rent as well?

The three brothers reached their father's workshop, unlatching the door and heading inside. The spacious area within was redolent with the smells of wood shavings and glue, and had belonged to their father for almost ten years now. He'd shared it with a friend for a while, but once his two eldest sons were proficient enough in the trade to work with him, that friend had left for Camelot to start a business of his own in there.

It was now very much a family business for them, and at the rate Alan and Elias were catching up to their father's skill, there was little doubt this workshop would stay in the family for many years to come.

The two brothers guided Liam to where stacks of prepared chair pieces had been left out ready to resume work on after their midday meal. Lord Hargren had ordered thirty chairs for the servants' wing, after several of his staff had been injured by a selection of rather ancient examples recently proving they had passed the point of no repair. When repair was no longer an option, replacement was the answer, and the brothers had spent the past week making all the pieces. Twenty of those chairs had now been assembled and were drying off to one side, the remaining ten soon to join them.

Setting his little brother on a box beside the worktable, Elias handed him a small wooden mallet with a padded head and started to tell him what he needed him to do.

"Now, what I'm going to do is I'm going to put glue on the ends of the rods and put them into the holes they need to go in. When I say so, I need you hit them with that so they'll stay in properly. Ok?"

Liam beamed at him, nodding eagerly.

"Yeah!"

Chuckling to himself, while Alan across the table assembled a chair on his own, Elias gabbed a chair seat and turned it upside down. Gluing the ends of four chair legs, he slotted them into the holes at its corners before gluing and inserting the crosspieces between the legs. Once the legs were struck firmly into their holes, the crossbars would need only minor adjustments.

He turned the assembly so that the first leg was in front of his brother, ducking out the way a bit when Liam's almost _too_ eager swing nearly got the fourteen-year-old's head. Learning from that lesson, he kept both it and his fingers out of Liam's way while he happily hammered the chair legs into place, before borrowing the tool for a moment to set the crossbars and square things up so the chair wouldn't wobble once finished.

By the time Liam had helped him turn it over and fasten the solid wood of the low back into place, their brother Alan had completed three chairs to their _one_. He left the two of them to finish the remaining six, instead going and stacking up those whose glue was set and loading them into the handcart out back. Trusting Elias to keep Liam out of trouble until he got back, he then took the cart and its load to the manor along with the message that the rest of their order would be delivered the next day once the glue had set.

Half an hour later the last five chairs were done and set to dry, Elias cajoling a now _less_ enthusiastic Liam to help sweep the workshop. The seven-year-old's characteristic pout had made an almost immediate appearance, until he'd explained that even their _dad_ swept the workshop when it needed doing. After that the seven-year-old had been a bit more amenable to the chore, but only on the promise of one thing.

He wanted to go down to the river to play once they were done.

When Alan got back a short while later, that was exactly what they did. Putting a laughing Liam into the back of the handcart, Alan and Elias took hold of a handle each and towed the giggling youngster through the town.

Arriving outside their house the elder of the two of them opened the front door and stuck his head inside.

Alan smiled at the trio within, before looking at his father.

"Dad, we've finished all the chairs and cleaned the workshop up, so we're going down to the river for a bit. We thought Helen might want to come."

The eleven-year-old in question turned to her mother hopefully, Alina nodding in permission.

"Just don't stay out too late. I want you back _before_ it starts to get dark."

Alan nodded in acceptance.

"We'll make sure, Elias and I... Besides, it gives you some quality time with dad."

He quickly let Helen out past him at that quip, just as well seeing as his father had thrown a boot in his direction.

Samer raised his eyebrows as the sound of Liam and Helen urging their brothers to go faster joined the rattle of the handcart, shaking his head and starting to chuckle. He then resumed his work on the final section of carving on the cabinet for Lady Jancine. He would oil and polish it tomorrow, and it would be ready to deliver the day after... Just in time for the festival to celebrate the completion of the spring planting.

~(-)~

**Alaia Skyhawk: I have to say, I wish I had two big brothers like Alan and Elias... My brother was a right ba... bugger when we were growing up XD**


	3. A Humble Beginning 'Part 3'

**Alaia Skyhawk: I think an old friend of mine, from my fics in the Tales of Symphonia section, has decided to take up residence here in this section instead... He's called Writing Bug, and he's currently shouting "WITE IT!" into my ear XD (Goes and does as the Writing Bug commands)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Merlin TV series etc, but I do own the star of this fic... LIAM!**

~(-)~

Chapter 3: A Humble Beginning ~Part 3~

The little pile of wood shavings grew between the carpenter's unshod feet, while he hummed softly to himself and carefully carved a pattern of interlocking diamonds into the last part of the cabinet. Across the room Alina was starting the process of loading uncountable tiny spools of fine cotton thread onto a board covered in short rods affixed to the back of the loom. Many nobles who could afford cloth made of silk would scoff at a woman of Lady Jancine's rank asking the weaver to use it for the weft. But as both Jancine and Alina knew, using cotton for the weft, when it would be hidden by silk anyway, produced a sturdier and _warmer_ fabric in the end.

That was how half of the cloth in Lady Jancine's silk gowns had been woven, and visitors to the manor wondered why she noticed the cold less at formal events in colder weather?

Her husband noticed her small smile as she thought about that, Samer ceasing his humming and starting to chuckle.

"I know that smile... You're thinking about noble women and silk dresses."

Alina paused in her work, laughing as well.

"They just seem so silly sometimes. I'm glad our Lady Jancine is a believer in common sense. If I'd had to make the cloth _entirely_ out of silk, it would cost _three _times what she's paying for this."

"All the better, it's our taxes that are paying for it."

"_Samer!_" It was not a shout of reprimand, her laughter made certain of that. She resumed fitting spools into the rack, from the basket of them she'd prepared a few days ago for this. "You haven't changed a bit in all the years I've been married to you... and I wouldn't have it any other way."

He set down his chisel for a moment, leaning an arm across the back of his chair as he regarded her still smiling.

"Do you remember the day we met? You were much less impressed with my humour then."

"That was because you'd just thrown a tub of wash water into my face, before telling me that at least my hair would be clean."

He gave her a slightly wounded look, his eyes dancing.

"I'd only used it to rinse wood resin off my tools. It smelt of pine."

She glanced at him blandly, her hands on her hips.

"It was also full of wood shavings... Which I was still finding bits of in my hair _four_ days later."

His smile returned as he raised a finger while making his point.

"But you never held it against me."

She started to smile again as well.

"Well, the figurine of the dancing lady you made for me helped."

Both of their gazes turned to the shelf where the aforementioned figurine stood, the tiny dancer in her wide skirts still smiling after all the years.

Picking up his chisel again, Samer rolled it over in his hands, thinking.

"I was only sixteen then, and you just fifteen... and to think that soon Alan will be heading out on his own just like we did."

Alina's smile softened.

"Lillian is a lovely girl, and they've had their eye on each other for almost a year now. He earns enough doing work for you at the workshop to support her, and her candle stall is doing well. They're more than able to start a life of their own."

When he heard her sigh, he sighed as well and resumed his carving.

"But you'll still be sad to see him go."

Alina nodded, wiping away the tear that tried to escape her eye.

"He's our eldest, our firstborn. It seemed like only yesterday he and Elias were running around the way Liam does now. Yet now both of them are nearly grown men, and before long time will flow by and even Liam will be stepping out of our door to make his own way in the world."

Samer nodded, a few more shavings falling to the pile between his feet.

"Such is the way it is for all parents. We enjoy their childhoods while they last."

~(-)~

Helen's shriek of laughter rose up to the sky, as the girl held tight to her hoisted up skirts and fled through the ankle-deep water from the miniature wave Elias had just flung at her with his hands.

Alan watched the two of them playing from the corner of his eye, before returning his attention to showing Liam how to tickle trout. Not that there were any trout around for them to practice with... Helen's screams of laughter had scared them all away.

Liam looked almost comical as he copied his brother's movements, he was almost _sat_ in the water rather than crouched over it, although given how short his legs were it wasn't actually that surprising. He teetered there, wobbling against the pull of the current on his legs, before finally the current won out and he toppled face first into the water.

Alan swiftly plucked him from the water, tucking the now soaking wet seven-year-old under his arm.

"That was lucky, little brother... You needed a bath anyway."

"ALAAAAAAN!"

Liam's indignant shout caused Elias and Helen to look over, both of them bursting into giggles when they saw how wet he was. But he wasn't the only one to get a dunking, because a moment later his thrashing caused the young man holding him to lose his balance. Down Alan went landing in the water, while Liam too got another soaking.

When he stood up again dripping water from every inch of his clothing and hair, he glanced over at Elias and started to chuckle.

"Alright, I think I asked for that."

Elias nodded.

"Yeah, you needed a bath too."

"Hey!"

A grinning Elias made for the bank, pointing at the sky and the sun that was rapidly heading westwards.

"We'd better be heading back, or mom will have our hides."

Realising that the time was indeed getting late, Alan retrieved Liam from the water and hurried after Elias with Helen in tow. Once again she and Liam rode in the handcart, as the two elder brothers hauled it back to town.

~(-)~

Their arrival back at the house had come with much tsking from their mother, Alina dragging both Liam and Alan over to the fire after making them change into dry clothes. They sat there on their respective stools, enduring their mother towelling their hair dry with a cloth. Once she was done she sent them to the dining table, making them stay there wrapped in blankets to ward of any 'chills' while she made supper. There they remained, Liam not that bothered but Alan rather bemused, while Elias helped their father sand off any remaining rough edges to the finished carvings on the cabinet, and their sister sat across by the loom spinning thread.

Supper passed as it always did, with stories about their day and speculations about tomorrow. Once the food was eaten and the bowls cleaned, Alan firmly led his youngest brother to the largest of the three beds behind the curtain at the back of the room.

"Get those breeches off and into bed with you. Growing little brothers need lots of sleep."

Liam did as he was told, sliding under the blankets of the bed he shared with both his brothers and looking up at the one sat beside him.

"Will you tell me a bedtime story?"

Alan raised his eyebrows.

"Aren't you getting a bit old for those?"

Liam shook his head.

"_Noooo._ I like stories."

Sighing in resignation, the fifteen-year-old brought a hand to his chin in thought.

"Hmmm, which story haven't you heard yet?" His eyes widened a little in inspiration and he started to smile. "I know. Mom used to tell this one to Elias and me."

Liam was now intrigued.

"What?"

Alan sat down on the edge of the bed, facing him as he began to speak.

"A long, long time ago, back when there were no kingdoms or kings, that was when the first of them were born..."

"Who?"

Alan's expression became mysterious.

"The people said they were blessed by the gods, and by the land itself, and that even the skies answered to their call. But it wasn't the skies that answered them; it was the Dragons that ruled over them that would come to their voices... They were the first Dragonlords, and it's said that the sight of them sat majestically astride the shoulders of dragons was what inspired the men who would found all of the great kingdoms of our land."

Liam sat there looking at his brother in awe.

"Really?"

Alan nodded.

"Yep, that's what they say. The first ever Dragonlord was called Albrin, and the dragon he rode was called..."

"_Alan!_" He stopped his tale as his mother grabbed him by the shoulder, her eyes fearful as she reprimanded him. "You _can't_ tell him that. What if someone outside _hears_ you?"

He stared at her in silence, his expression changing to a frown.

"It's just a _story_. Hardly something that would get me arrested. Since when was it illegal to tell stories?"

"Stories about _magic._.."

Once again an uncomfortable silence fell between them, before he rose to his feet and headed for the door.

"I'm going to go get some fresh air... You can tell him a story you think is more _appropriate_."

Alina gazed sadly after him, understanding his frustration as he slammed the front door behind him. He'd been six years old when Uther of Camelot had started the Great Purge, and the ban on all magic had been cast over the land. He'd been just old enough to remember several of their neighbours, good friends, being arrested and led off for execution. Helen and Elias were too young to remember the worse of it, and Liam, who was born two years after the Purge began, had never known a world with magic at all.

He looked up at her now in puzzlement, not understanding why his brother had seemed so upset.

"Mom, why is Alan angry?"

She sat down where her son had been a few moments before.

"It's nothing, sweetling. He's just remembered something bad that happened a long time ago, and he needs to clear his head... Do you want me to tell you a story?"

The little boy's smile returned, as he nodded above the blanket tucked up under his chin.

"Yes please."

She smiled, brushing a strand of his blond hair out of his face.

"Once there was a terrible monster. It hid in the forests looking for unwary travellers, sneaking up on them when their backs were turned. But one day a group of brave knights learnt of its misdeeds and set out on a quest to slay the terrible beast."

She continued with the story, bringing it to a close as her son's green eyes began to droop closed. When she leaned down to kiss him goodnight, he murmured sleepily.

"I want to be a brave knight when I grow up... and fly on a dragon."

Alina's smile became sad, her fingers lightly stroking his cheek.

"There are no more dragons, Liam, only the one that is chained in the caverns below Camelot." That seemed to rouse him a little, Alina tweaking the end of his nose gently. "We each grow up to what we are meant to be. If you are meant to be a warrior, then it will be so, but do not be disappointed if you find yourself doing something else... Even _warriors_ need clothing, and chairs to sit on."

Liam giggled quietly at that, before his eyes drifted closed and he fell asleep. She left him there to his dreams, the boy soon to be joined by Elias while Helen went to the tiny mattress she had to herself. But their mother did not leave her vigil by the fire until Alan returned, pulling him into a hug of sadness and understanding when he came in the door.

Only her husband saw it, his eyes also saddened and filled with regret. The Purge had hurt so many innocent people, _good_ people, and it still shadowed the lives of those that were left watching the flames of the pyres.

~(-)~

**Alaia Skyhawk: Liam's world isn't all light and joy, he's just too young to understand yet the shadows that are all around him. It's something he will have to learn thought, poor little guy.**


	4. The Kindhearted Lord 'Part 1'

**Alaia Skyhawk: Time to introduce another of the characters mentioned by Liam in A Question of Motives, and also a new one :)**

**Music this chapter was written to: "In Mallaig" folk song played by Horseplay**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Merlin TV series etc, but I do own the star of this fic... LIAM!**

~(-)~

Chapter 4: The Kind-hearted Lord ~Part 1~

"Steady there, you two! We don't want to drop it now, not after getting it up all these stairs."

Samer held tight to one end of the cabinet he'd spent the past week making, his two eldest sons below him on the stairway holding the other end. He'd spent all of yesterday oiling and polishing it, polishing it again this morning before carefully wrapping it and loading it into the family's handcart. It was still wrapped now, the three of them using the securing ropes as additional handles to move it, and all the while Lady Jancine followed them looking rather anxious.

Despite what most commoners would think, she was not worried lest they drop and damage the cabinet; she was concerned in case they hurt themselves. She was a kind-hearted woman, and a perfect match for Lord Hargren. They were two of a kind, and a rare kind indeed among those of noble blood... They actually truly _cared_ about _all_ the people they presided over, regardless of social status.

The father and sons reached the top of the stairs, following her to her chambers here on the third floor. When they reached them, Samer untied the ropes and took off the rough canvas that was the outer wrapping, revealing an inner wrap of soft cotton.

When she saw he'd used some of Alina's good cloth to protect it, Lady Jancine turned to him.

"Samer, you shouldn't have."

He smiled slightly, as Alan began to untie the rope on the inner wrap.

"My wife insisted. If the cloth is unmarked by this she can still sell it, and if not we'll keep it for ourselves. Thanks to your two generous commissions, as well as that order for chairs, we can afford it. Now." He walked over to the cabinet, lightly taking hold of the cloth covering it. "If my Lady would tell me if this makes your approval."

He pulled the cloth away, revealing the item beneath. The cabinet was waist-height, its two broad doors decorated with patterns of interlocking diamonds like those carved into the borders and raised back of the piece. That rim which had been the last bit he'd added, to prevent items placed on it from being pushed off the back of the cabinet's top. The wood gleamed a warm, deep rose in colour, the carpenter having decided not to stain it dark as he'd originally planned. The oak he'd made it from had proven to have one of the best grains he'd seen in oak for a long while, and he'd taken advantage of that. The faintly visible patterns added to the richness of the piece, which might have seemed slightly obtrusive had it been stained the dark, nearly black colour favoured by most nobles.

Lady Jancine stared at it for a moment, before breaking into a delighted smile.

"It's perfect. You've outdone yourself once again, Samer. You truly are Ulwin's finest carpenter."

He bowed slightly to her, as did his sons.

"You honour me, My Lady. It is a pleasure to know my work has pleased you."

She continued to smile, before pointing to an empty alcove to the left of her hearth.

"If you would put it there, I would be most obliged."

Of course, Lady Jancine."

Samer nodded to his two sons, who carefully took hold of the cabinet and carried it across the room. After watching them start to ease it into the alcove it had been made to fit, she paused for a moment before turning to the carpenter stood beside her.

"Samer, my husband has told me to inform you, that you and your family are invited to the festival banquet tonight."

The carpenter twitched in surprise, turning to face her not sure what to say.

"My Lady... It would be an honour, but surely to invite commoners to such a thing would not be appropriate."

She clasped her hands in front of her, her expression both kindly and slightly reprimanding for his maligning himself.

"Yours is not the only family being invited, Samer... How better to show our appreciation of those whose work makes Ulwin prosperous? Craftsmen like you are the lifeblood of Ulwin's trade with other nations outside of Camelot. Without men and women like you and your wife, ours would be little more than a farming town. It is my husband's decision that you should be rewarded for your contribution, so please accept the invitation."

He regarded her in stunned silence for several seconds, before bowing deeply in gratitude.

"It will be a great honour to attend, My Lady."

She smiled.

"Then I shall see you and your family tonight. The celebration will begin at dusk."

He thanked her once again, before he and his two eldest sons departed from the manor to deliver the news to his wife.

~(-)~

"We've been invited to the banquet? _All_ of us?"

Alina regarded her husband in astonishment at the invite from Lady Jancine, despite the fact she had a tentative friendship of sorts with the noblewoman.

He smiled at her, nodding in confirmation as he started to chuckle.

"Yes, we have. We're not the only ones, mind. She said that other crafters and their families were also being invited."

She turned away from him, immediately beginning to fluster.

"Oh I'm so glad I had those new dresses made for Helen and I, but you and the boys." She turned back to him, grabbing him by the collar of his scruffy shirt. "You four don't have a decent shirt between you. I will _not_ let you and the boys go to a banquet with nobles dressed like paupers! It's decided, come with me, we're going to the market."

She didn't let go of his collar, dragging her husband towards the door by it as he began to protest.

"But Alina, I have to get started on my next commission."

"Don't lie, Samer... I know full well you don't _have_ one yet unless someone comes and asks you this afternoon. You'd only be mending those old cart wheels you have if I let you go, and those can wait."

She shoved him out the door, quickly followed by their three sons, before coming out behind them with a small pouch of coin from the hiding place beneath the floor under her loom. Of the four males, only one seemed to be looking forward to this. Liam happily followed his mother, asking her if he could pick the colour of his shirt himself and breaking into a smile when she said he could. Meanwhile Samer and their two eldest glanced at each other and trailed along at the rear, not particularly looking forward to spending the afternoon picking out shirts that Alina would never let them wear for work.

She did have one point though, none of them wished to look like paupers at a noble's banquet either.

~(-)~

The soft tap on the study door heralded its opening, Lady Jancine entering the bookshelf-lined room with a small tray bearing a goblet of wine. Not that she'd fetched it from the kitchens herself, she'd asked a servant to do that, but she liked to be the one to take her husband's usual afternoon drink to him. It was a small gesture of her love for him, and also gave them opportunity to talk about matters in need of discussion.

That was the case today, as she carefully set the tray on the edge of his desk and perched gracefully on the small chair set beside it.

"I've seen to it that the five best craftsmen and their families have been invited as you asked, but I fear the presence of commoners at tonight's banquet might not be best liked by the members of our court."

Hargren looked up from the document he'd been reading, noting the hint of concern in her hazel eyes.

"Let them fuss if they wish to. It's time they started learning that nobility is not a right, it is a responsibility. That I am fair and generous towards those I rule over, is part of what has made Ulwin so great in the fifteen years since Uther entrusted Lordship of these lands to me. Not even Camelot boasts as many fine craftsmen as our fair town does, and that is because I have given such craftsmen good reason to wish to come here."

Jancine frowned a little, one hand twirling a lock of her auburn hair.

"You should really petition him to allow Ulwin to be named a city. It is equal in size to Camelot, and I see not why it should still be but a 'town' upon the map."

Her husband regarded her with a small but solemn smile, his blue eyes dancing beneath his neatly trimmed black locks.

"Ah, but to do so would imply I wish to take these lands completely as my own, and break away from his kingdom even though I do not... He is a good friend. Jancine, and my pride is not such that I would tarnish the trust between us for such a minor thing as a title. No, nothing would be worth losing a friend in such a manner. Not Ulwin being called a city, and not myself being called a king." He reached over to her, taking her by the hand and smiling. "I already have all that I want and need. If he decides one day to truly _give_ them to me, then I will accept them, but I would never wish to take them by force."

She sighed, shaking her head a little.

"It's no wonder many of the nobles in our court consider you lacking in ambition. You think so differently from them that they fail to realise just how ambitious you actually are."

"I do not need to be a king to make the lands under my care great." He let go of her hand, leaning back in his chair and gesturing to the documents spread across his desk. "Every year Ulwin's prosperity grows, carried to even greater heights upon the shoulders of the people who live here. Their hard work is what has taken us this far, and after the barbarian of a noble who was steward here before me it comes as no surprise that they are willing to make an effort."

His wife snorted delicately.

"Indeed... Lord Gamel was a foul man, and he treated the people of Ulwin like _slaves_. It's no small wonder the treasury was empty when we replaced him, none of his people had any motivation to work. The town had no blacksmith, only one carpenter, and two weavers... The houses were falling to pieces, hardly anyone had reasonable clothing, and people wanting their horses shod had to take them to a smith three villages away."

Hargren smiled.

"And now Ulwin is the finest hub of trade within this kingdom and all of its neighbours, not even Camelot itself can compete when most of its trade passes through here... Where's the lack of ambition in that?"

She chuckled.

"Uther is lucky that you're his friend... If you truly wished to take these lands, you could strangle his trade routes and there would be little he could do to stop you."

Her husband picked up the document he'd been reading, glancing at his wife as she got up to leave.

"And that is why his friendship means all the more to me, because he _knows_ I could do that but trusts me not to. Any other Lord here would have representatives from Camelot watching their every move, but he leaves me to run things without that interference. That is all the reason I need to be content with what I have built here."

With that he resumed his work, Jancine leaving the study with a smile on her face. Let her fellow nobles stab each other in the back with their conspiracies and power plays. She and her husband had learnt long ago that the greatest rewards came from being honest with those you preside over, and those who preside over you.

~(-)~

**Alaia Skyhawk: There you go, your first look into the inner workings of Lord Hargren's mind... Like Merlin said in A Question of Motives, he has his head on straight unlike 95% of all other nobles XD**


	5. The Kindhearted Lord 'Part 2'

**Alaia Skyhawk: I know things are a bit slow event-wise right now, but things will pick up from ep 4 onwards. It just happens to be that I like to set things up and ease events into place, rather than throw them at you and expect you to pick up on the hints behind them XD**

**Might I also add that in my opinion people who create bot-programs to send spam through feedback forms on websites are MORONS! I've just had to update the guest book form page on my website and introduce a test script to the form, to stop 20+ spam adverts from john1, jonh2, and john3 inundating my guest book inbox as they have done for the past few days... All I can say is the guy who created 'john' seriously needs to get a LIFE! (grumbles then goes off to write chapter)**

**On a side note, anyone who wants to read the teaser of my first (but as yet unpublished) book can find it on my website. If you would like to leave a comment in the now upgraded guest book about what you think of it, it's always appreciated... It would be nice to see something other than spam arrive through that inbox after the pile of **** I've had come through there the past couple of days (sighs) I'm considering publishing the book myself in ebook format, but it depends on how much interest there is :S**

**Music: "I Left Him on the Mountainside" (Celtic folk song)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Merlin TV series etc, but I do own the star of this fic... LIAM!**

~(-)~

Chapter 5: The Kind-hearted Lord ~Part 2~

The sun was just making its stately way towards the horizon as the family of six made their way to the gate in the wall surrounding the manor, the youngest among them extremely excited by the prospect of attending something so special as a banquet.

Liam followed close beside his mother, mindful that she had told him to be on his _best_ behaviour. He was to stay by one of his brothers at _all_ times, and was to be polite and courteous to anyone who spoke to him. In fact she was so nervous that her youngest might do something to make a bad impression that she'd threatened her eldest with a three-week ban from visiting the tavern. Alan had not been impressed with that prospect, and had assured her he would keep an eye on Liam.

He was taking that task very seriously, as evidenced by his taking the boy by a shoulder clad in a new pale-blue shirt when they were admitted through the gate. He wasn't doing it because of his mother's ultimatum though, it was because he'd been inside the manor often enough to know that most nobles weren't as decent and understanding as Hargren and Jancine were. There were some that would hit Liam for stepping out of line if they felt insulted, be the child a guest of Lord Hargren or not.

It was with a certain degree of nerves that they arrived at the manor's grand entrance, set into the side of what was blatantly actually a castle. No one in Ulwin knew why he insisted on calling it his 'manor'; only he and his wife knew that it was political tactfulness on his part. He was a Lord in his manor, not a King in a castle, and he wanted that distinction to be quiet clear to Uther's court in Camelot.

The six commoners were ushered through the doorway and along a hallway within, the path grandly lit with braziers before they entered the great hall with its vast chandeliers of glowing candles.

They paused at that doorway in awe, before a smiling couple came over to greet them. Lord Hargren looked fine in his emerald green robes, Jancine resplendent beside him in a dress of paler, jade green. The fabric of the noblewoman's gown was covered in a pattern of tiny silken diamonds scattered across the velvet, which almost made it seem as though set with jewels that shimmered as she moved. That fabric had been her previous commission of Alina, and that she was showing it off at this event meant a great deal to the weaver.

So touched by the gesture of obvious approval, Alina did not hesitate to return the small formal embrace the Lady gave her as she spoke.

"I'm glad you came, all of you. It is a pleasure. Please come with me, Alina, I would like to introduce you to some friends of mine."

Lord Hargren nodded to Samer while his wife led the carpenter's away.

"My lady wife is constantly telling me how much she is looking forward to seeing the results of her latest commission. I was given to understand from her talk that the design is even more ambitious than the last."

When her father started to look a little lost, not understanding the intricacies of weaving himself, Helen stepped forward and curtseyed neatly.

"The small silk diamonds were simple to arrange into the pattern, My Lord, but to arrange large panels of velvet into a satin weave require a large number of draw-rods to be set above the loom. Mother will have to use three of the harnesses for the satin, leaving only one to hold the strands for making the pile of the velvet. That means that I will have to control the movement of those threads from above the weaving frame."

She curtseyed again after finishing her explanation, the lord raising his eyebrows slightly.

"It sounds complicated indeed. Are you to be a weaver when you grow up?"

Samer placed a hand on his daughter's shoulder.

"My wife has already begun to train her. Soon Helen will be able to take over weaving the plain cloth we trade to the merchant. If all goes well, I will build her a loom of her own like her mother's in a year or two. It will make our home a little cramped, but it's only a small inconvenience." He indicated his eldest son. "Alan is nearly ready to start in a home of his own, although he will continue to work with me in my workshop, and Elias is not far behind him."

Both boys nodded solemnly as they were introduced, before Lord Hargren looked down at the smaller blond boy who was now peeking out from behind his father.

"And this would be your youngest... Liam, if I recall correctly?"

The seven-year-old seemed surprised that the lord knew his name, as did his father, but he came forward when Samer gave him a small nudge. He then bowed nervously, hunching his shoulders as he spoke in a small voice.

"It is good to meet you, Lord Hargren."

The lord chuckled, smiling above his neatly trimmed beard.

"I see that you and Alina have raised your children well. They do you proud." He noticed another guest enter the hall, and gestured towards the far side of the room. "Now if you would like to show your children to where the others are gathered, feel free to mingle with the rest of the guests."

Samer nodded in gratitude, honoured to be here, and did as was suggested. As soon as Alan and his siblings were with the other crafters' children, the fifteen-year-old taking it upon himself to make sure they all behaved, the carpenter began to stroll among those gathered here extremely glad of the new cream-coloured shirt he wore. Hair neatly combed at it was, he could have been a minor lord within the throng but for his spotless yet still rather worn boots.

If he had come here dressed in one of his old shirts, he would probably have turned and left. Honour to be here or not, no man wishes to be stared at for looking like a pauper even if in day-to-day life a worn shirt could also mean you merely worked hard for a living. He doubted many of the nobles stood around here in their fancy clothes worked as hard as he did.

~(-)~

The noblewoman led the weaver towards the gathering of other female nobles, guiding her gently but firmly into a situation Alina would likely have preferred to avoid. Those women turned as one to stare at the commoner, only the fact that their hostess was introducing her preventing them from walking away in disgust.

Lady Jancine smiled at them as if she hadn't noticed their barely hidden distain of the woman beside her, acting as if this were a normal introduction.

"Ladies, this is Mistress Alina Morranson. Alina, this is Countess Eleanor, Countess Grecia, and Lady Duchess Marsilia."

Alina did her best to remain unflustered, curtseying gracefully in her yellow and cream linen dress. While the cloth may not have been as expensive as that worn by the nobles, it was just as finely woven... After all, she'd woven and had it dyed herself.

"It is a great pleasure to meet you all."

Two of the ladies muttered reluctant courtesies in reply, the third turning to Jancine in an attempt to ignore the commoner beside her.

"I must say, Lady Jancine, that your dress is absolutely stunning. Wherever did you get it?"

Jancine immediately spotted the change of subject for what it was, and also immediately took advantage of the opportunity it gave her. She smoothed a hand over the luxuriant crushed velvet with its silken diamond insets, before smiling at Countess Grecia and replying.

"I had my personal seamstress make it for me." She then glanced at the weaver beside her. "But the cloth was woven for me on commission, by none other than Mistress Alina. I will admit I gave her quite a challenge, and she exceeded my expectations. I had expected she would weave the velvet then have the diamond pattern stitched onto it, but instead she wove it _into_ the cloth itself despite the difficulty it posed. And as you can see the result is quite beautiful, and a credit to her skill. She is my weaver of choice for all my personal commissions."

The atmosphere within the group of women changed almost instantly, as Countess Grecia very nearly gaped in an unladylike manner before composing herself to a more suitable degree of polite surprise.

"She is?" She turned to Alina, all of a sudden all too happy to speak with her. "Mistress Alina, perhaps you would be willing to undertake a commission from myself?"

"I too would like to place a commission."

"As would I."

The hypocrisy of this scene was not lost on Jancine, and not on Alina either. But still, the weaver remained polite and gracious, smiling softly as she replied.

"It would be a pleasure to do so, but at present I am preparing to start on my Lady's next commission. I will begin weaving it as soon as the silks I require arrive from Camelot, but with luck should have it completed by midsummer. I may be required to add additional harnesses to my loom though, which will add a delay of around a week if that is the case. The weaving of fine fabrics cannot be rushed, or the quality suffers greatly as a result." She inclined her head politely, almost in a half-bow. "But if you would wish to submit your commissions to me, I would be more than happy to begin preparing the draw patterns for them. I would ask that you bear in mind though that upon accepting and beginning a commission I would require you to cover the purchase price of the materials required in advance. As an independent weaver I cannot finance to buy expensive threads such as silk. Instead the cost incurred by you would be deducted from the total price I would charge for the work."

When the three noblewomen seemed to become slightly subdued at this information, Lady Jancine smiled and spoke.

"Mistress Alina is a professional of the highest calibre in her line of work. While paying in advance for materials might seem discouraging, one must remember that one is purchasing a product woven specifically for one's self." Once again she ran a hand over her dress. "Not once in all my searching did I manage to find velvet of this particular shade and certainly not in this pattern. It was more than worth the additional wait to have Mistress Alina weave it for me, than to settle with a lesser velvet in a shade of green not of my liking. Yes indeed, it was well worth the wait."

Her comments sealed it, all three noblewomen assuring Alina that they would have the commission requests presented to her as soon as possible. Meanwhile Jancine simply looked on with a small satisfied smile on her face, knowing word would soon spread through the court until more than just these three would want to place orders for cloth. Alina would earn a great deal from all the commissions she could gain from this banquet, and these noblewomen would learn at least a little to value the common-born crafters who created or grew everything they bought or ate. Even if that value were only in a small and selfish way, it would be a start in the right direction.

She left a now more relaxed Alina chatting to the three nobles, the weaver confidently explaining the advantages of different weaves for different types of thread. Sure now that the weaver's place was secure, Jancine strolled across the hall and placed herself where she could observe the children of the five craftsmen and their spouses who were attending. Another part of her husband's careful manipulation of the court was now due, and with a small nod to his chamberlain she signalled the man to introduce her son to them.

She remained where she was after that, watching the scene unfold.

~(-)~

Alan watched carefully as his youngest brother chattered animatedly to another youth the same age, giving both a nudge whenever they became a touch _too_ exuberant for such a formal gathering. That's not to say he stopped them enjoying the occasion, but he did impose certain rules upon the group of seventeen assorted boys and girls. He was the image of a well brought up young man as he stood there, hands clasped lightly behind his back while he leaned ever so slightly against the nearby wall.

In fact such was his dignity in the role that four young noblemen had mistaken him, clad as he was in a fine new shirt, for being one of their own perhaps visiting for the first time. Of the four of them, all had been shocked when he'd admitted to being a carpenter and here with his father at Lord Hargren's invitation. One had then left with only minor courtesies, two of them a bit more accepting but still looking down on him a little, and the fourth had actually stayed and talked to him for several minutes.

Alan had to admit he was disappointed when that particular young nobleman had been called away by his father, and that he had also been surprised to learn the youth was the son of a man he knew to be particularly prickly with commoners. He'd have expected him to be Lord Hargren's son, and certainly he had to agree with his judgement when he met the young lord a short time later.

Lord Hargren's chamberlain led the boy over, a youth clearly the same age as Liam yet he couldn't be more different. He was almost a miniature replica of the attitudes the older man clearly held but was more careful to hide the worst of, the seven-year-old almost scowling sullenly when presented to the group of commoners' children.

Deciding to take the diplomatic edge on this, Alan stepped forward and bowed formally to the youth, a glance at the rest of his group prompting them to do the same. This was one occasion he was glad he'd listened to his father and made a point of learning the formal etiquette that nobles preferred at things like this. With Samer getting so many commissions from the manor, it had made sense that he and his eldest sons know how best _not_ to offend the nobility.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Young Lord Tarven, here at this banquet your lord father has graciously invited us to attend. It is a great honour to be here."

The chamberlain actually looked slightly surprised to be confronted by such an apparently well-educated commoner, but the boy beside him showed no such reaction.

Tarven let out the smallest of distaining snorts, his young voice almost scornful as he replied.

"It is my lord father's decision to allow your like to attend this gathering. I find I do not take such pleasure from this meeting, and would ask that you not address me at such gatherings if you attend any more in the future."

He then turned and walked away, forcing the chamberlain to hurry after him. Neither Alan nor Elias saw the man glance flustered at the observing Lady Jancine, as the former muttered to the latter.

"What an _ass_."

Elias snorted, frowning slightly.

"You mean he has his head _stuck_ up his ass. And he's the same age as our brother?"

The two of them looked at Liam, who having lost interest in Tarven was pulling faces at his sister. They might have said more but for a small bell being rung signalling that it was time for the actual meal part of the banquet to begin.

Alan saw to looking after Liam, while Elias took care of Helen. They were quickly led to seats with their parents at the tables furthest from where Hargren and Jancine sat, the Lord standing up and speaking to all those gathered here.

"I welcome you all to this celebration of the end of the spring planting, a time when the hard work of spring gives way to the new, although equally hard tasks of summer. It is a changing of the seasons, one that affects us all be we of noble birth or common born. So let us all give thanks to that which all men must follow, the flow of the year that our combined skills and efforts allow us to see through... Now, let the feast begin!"

At his gesture a veritable swarm of servants came in bearing trays of food, with the same selection being presented to the commoners as being given to the nobles. It was a treat of great proportions for the crafters and their families, and they were happy to accept that which they were offered. One and all they still put their best manners on though, even if in one case a seven-year-old had to be stopped from using his fingers by the eldest of his brothers.

~(-)~

**Alaia Skyhawk: There you go for part 2. I hope you liked it :)**


	6. The Kindhearted Lord 'Part 3'

**Alaia Skyhawk: Here's part 3 :)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Merlin TV series etc, but I do own the star of this fic... LIAM!**

**Music: "Pastheen Fionn" Celtic folk song**

~(-)~

Chapter 6: The Kind-hearted Lord ~Part 3~

It was late, and the skies dark but for the moon and stars, when the family walked home from the manor. All of them were full of stories of whom they'd spoken to and how while most of the nobles remained aloof, there were some who genuinely opened up and found themselves happy to speak to commoners. It was a subtle lowering of the barriers between the nobility and those who had no choice but to work beneath them, and Samer could only wonder at his Lord's audacity in doing so.

He shook his head at it, glancing at his wife with a small smile.

"I wonder how many members of his court realise what he's doing. I see it because I know the kind of man he is, but I don't think there will be many of his fellow nobles who will. They blind themselves too much with their airs and graces."

Alina sighed, gazing sidelong at her husband.

"I could say the same of many commoners, Samer. Most hold a degree of prejudice against the nobility, and we are as much exceptions as Lord Hargren and Lady Jancine are. For those out here who don't get to enter the manor as often as we do, the two of them are as distant and unfathomable as King Uther is to us. We know Uther is the true ruler of our lands, but none of us have met him. He is just a name whose word decides our fates and at times casts shadows over our lives."

Behind her Elias snorted, the dozing figure of Liam being carried piggyback by the youth.

"From what I've heard of Uther, he's better than some of the worst nobles I know. Despite all he's done since the Purge, he still puts the security of his kingdom and people before anything else. He's arrogant, but he has the brains to go with it."

Beside him Alan snorted as well, knowing what his brother was getting at.

"You mean unlike our dear and _pleasant_ Young Lord Tarven."

Samer looked back over his shoulder, as they reached their house and he opened the door.

"And what would you mean by that?"

They all stepped inside, Elias taking Liam to the back of the cottage and changing the sleepily protesting boy into a nightshirt.

Meanwhile, Alan sighed.

"Tarven is the same age as Liam, but he talks like he's _my_ age and _not _in a good way. Tonight was the first time I've ever spoken to him, and to be honest I'm not sure I'd want to again."

A voice piped up from the back of the room, Elias equally unimpressed by the young lord.

"He's a complete ass, Dad. Even when it was obvious we weren't as _uneducated _as he assumed we'd be, he stayed right up there on his high horse, turned his back on us and the rest of the kids there, and walked off like we weren't worth his time."

As their father sighed, Alina knew what he was thinking. After directing Helen to go get ready for bed, she looked at her two eldest sons and explained.

"Neither Lady Jancine nor Lord Hargren can spare a great deal of time for their son. With Tarven being born so soon after the start of the Purge, their lives were still in turmoil. She confided in me once that she didn't agree with what Uther was doing, but that for the sake of Ulwin's stability she and her husband had no choice but to go along with it. If they had resisted and opposed it, it could have caused war, and if it had gone to that then a great many more than just those who used magic would have died... She had to hand her own maid over to the executioner, a young girl whose only magic was an ability to call songbirds down out of the trees."

She choked on those last few words, Samer putting an arm around her in comfort as he spoke.

"Bealynne was a good friend of your mother's, as well as Lady Jancine. When she was forced to hand her over, Jancine negotiated with Uther to have her beheaded rather than burned at the stake. Her body was also returned to Ulwin at her request, and Lady Jancine had her buried in the apple orchard where the birds would always be around her." He sighed. "Hargren and Jancine never got the chance to grieve for the innocents who died in the Purge, and still do not have time. Ulwin lies close to the border, with all the dangers that involves. They constantly have to remain at the frontline of Camelot's political relationships with other nearby nations. Ulwin's reputation as a trade town means it has little military value, and would be unlikely to be attacked, but they must remain on guard. They had to entrust most of Tarven's care to their chamberlain, Lord Timon, but he's very much a 'traditional' noble. Once Tarven is older, he can spend more time helping and learning from his father. His attitudes should mellow after that."

Alan, who had been frowning at the reminder of the Purge, raised his eyebrows although his frown remained.

"I hope so, because if he's anything like this at eighteen the way he is at seven... I'll be moving to Camelot."

Behind him Elias snorted, Liam now fast asleep in bed.

"You and half the other craftsmen in Ulwin."

Little more was said after that, the rest of the family preparing for bed and joining the youngest of them in slumber.

~(-)~

The sound of birds in the grounds outside drifted in through the open window, the soft morning chorus reaching the ears of the man sat at the desk within the room.

Lord Hargren worked his way through the piles of documents, reading reports of the recent taxes, as well as the profits that had been made during the past two months of trade. He smiled a little when he saw that they had gone up from the previous two-month period, not by much but enough to indicate that trade in his town was still booming and that it would continue to do so. He was still smiling to himself when the door of his study opened, his wife entering with a small tray.

Lady Jancine carried it over to him, setting it and the goblet of wine it held down on the edge of the desk. She hadn't been the one to bring it up from the kitchens, but she _had_ taken it from the servant she'd sent when they'd arrive with it. It was a small gesture on her part, but she always liked to be the one to bring it to him each morning. It was almost a tradition for the two of them, and it meant if he wished to ask her advice on something, or merely talk, then this was an opportunity to do so.

That was the case today, as he waited for her to sit on the chair set beside the desk before he spoke.

"Have you spoken with those you intended to?"

Folding her hands neatly in her lap, she nodded.

"I have."

He lifted his head to look at her.

"And what says you, as to the success of our banquet last night?"

Silence remained between them for a few moments, before she broke into a refined but still victorious smile.

"It was a complete success. When I had breakfast this morning, with all the ladies I had invited to dine with me, I learnt from their usual chatter that all five of the craftsmen you invited, as well as any of their spouses who are also crafters, will be receiving a large number of commissions this morning. Not only that, but they are also looking forward to the next season banquet you invite craftsmen to, although I would suggest inviting a different set of five for the next. Opinions of common born craftsmen have improved as you intended, and several minds have been opened to the possibility of giving them a bit more credit and respect for their work. Lord Kevren's son, Gerard, was particularly complimentary of Samer's eldest. From what I heard, he and Alan talked for at least half an hour before Kevren called him away. Otherwise I would expect they'd have talked for most of the evening."

Hargren smiled at that, nodding.

"Young Gerard is a young man I have my eye on. The people of Ulwin will respect him greatly, and he has the head to be placed in charge of organising Ulwin's trade. Once he has a few more years to his name, I intend to place him as an assistant to Lord Markis."

Jancine raised an elegant eyebrow.

"Heavens know he needs a more open-minded man beside him. Markis is so stiff that it's just as well all trade agreements still come through you for now. He'd have scared half of them away and insulted the representatives of several of the others had he dealt with them. It's sad when you cannot trust your Chancellor for Trade to do his job. When are you going to get rid of him?"

Hargren sighed, shaking his head a little.

"He was recommended by Uther, so I have to at least _seem_ to give him a chance. I don't deny that his understanding of economics is extensive, it's just..."

"He has the subtly of a charging boar." Jancine shook her head. "We need him gone, Hargren. Lord Timon and him have become quiet friendly the past year he's been here, and our son has been associating with him a great deal result."

Her husband stiffened, starting to frown.

"Do you believe it has anything to do with his behaviour last night?"

Jancine nodded solemnly.

"Before Lord Markis was sent to us on recommendation, Tarven had no problem in being polite to the servants. But since then Lord Timon has been more open in his attitudes around him, and they have undoubtedly influenced Tarven. I would recommend sending Markis back to Camelot, perhaps due to a 'conflict of opinions'. Make it seem that you find him abrasive but that you still acknowledge his skills, that way there will be no insult taken from the move."

Hargren leaned back in his chair, his expression grim.

"That will work, but I'm afraid that Lord Timon cannot wait. He can come with us to Camelot when we go later this week, and I will inform him later today to prepare for that move. I want you to take over monitoring our son until we return from Camelot. I have someone in mind that I believe will be able to ease our son out of the prejudices that Timon and Markis have clearly begun to instil in him. He is still young, so if we begin now then it should not become a problem." He shook his head. "I cannot allow those I trust with the care of my son to undermine me and teach him ways that are contrary to my principles. I will not allow them to turn him into a man, who in his distain of the common folk would undo all that I have worked to create."

Jancine nodded, rising to her feet.

"Tarven will be with his tutor right now. I will go, and when he arrives to collect him for the midday meal, I will inform Lord Timon that you wish to speak with him at the second hour after noon."

"Thank you, Jancine. I only hope that the damage done is not irreparable." She looked down at him, while his gazed up at her. "I too saw the expressions of Samer's two eldest boys, after our son ignored their courtesy and insulted them by turning away. We cannot let this continue, certainly not with individuals we owe so much to... Samer, Alina, and her sister Sarah, were the only crafters in Ulwin when we arrived. They soldiered on under the cruel hand of Lord Gamel, refusing to leave and abandon their neighbours even when all others had... And it was they who put their faith in us when we asked for them to give us their support and help us make Ulwin the place it is today."

She sighed and headed for the study door.

"I know... Were it not for them vouching for us with the new crafters passing through, convincing them to settle here instead, then we would never have succeed in undoing the harm that Gamel did to this place... It would have taken far longer than fifteen years to turn the hovel that was Ulwin, into the hub of trade we have now."

~(-)~

The small pieces of paper rustled, as the callused feminine hand flipped through them. Reading the request on each one, as well as the small sketch and description attached to each request.

Alina lowered the bundle, before turning to her husband.

"I'm going to need my sister's help to do all of these".

Samer frowned.

"Sarah? But she hasn't woven in years."

Alina

"She's still capable of drawing the threads to make the designs, and I'll need someone more experienced at that than Helen for patterns like these. Some of these I'm not even sure are _possible_ on my loom; I would need to design the weaving order of the threads to be sure. I think I may have to add two more harnesses to my loom."

Alan, who was stood at the hearth cooking porridge for breakfast, glanced over with a small smile.

"I can go to Camelot and get the parts you need, mom. It would take dad weeks to make them, but cloth merchant there stocks parts for looms. He's sure to have all the bits you'll need."

Alina turned to her son, frowning in concern.

"But Alan..."

"Mom, I'm fifteen, and I'll be sixteen in two months. I'm old enough to be trusted to travel alone, and it's only three days walk there and back. Besides, I want to go see Camelot before I 'settle down' with Lillian."

Her eyes went wide.

"She _accepted _your proposal? _When did you ask?_"

Alan grinned, giving his father a conspiring wink. Samer had found out the day it had happened.

"Two weeks ago. Her father has agreed she can marry me when she turns sixteen five months from now." He now started to look a little embarrassed. "I wanted to get her a gift for that day, and the market in Camelot is perfect for that sort of thing. So I was hoping..."

Alina rushed over to him, pulling him into a hug.

"Of course you can go, and you can use whatever money is left from getting those harnesses for my loom, to get something for the two of you." She'd left him to go get money from the compartment under her loom, coming back and pressing several silver coins into his hands when he tried to refuse. "I'll hear nothing of it. I know you want to use money you've earned yourself, but are your father and I not allowed to give you a gift to celebrate? And you still need to tell your brothers and sister."

As the reminder of the trio who had gone to the well to get water to refill the barrel outside the back door, Alan chuckled.

"Elias already knows, but I wanted it to be a surprise for Liam and Helen. I'll tell them when I get back from Camelot, otherwise they'll want to come with me."

Samer looked between his wife and son.

"It's settled then. Alina, why don't you and the kids go visit Sarah? It's going to be at least another week before the silks for Lady Jancine's commission arrive from the cloth merchant in Camelot. It's been a while since they last saw their aunt, and it will be a chance for you to rest before getting started on it. Alan can travel as far as there with you, before continuing on to Camelot."

Alina put her hands on her hips.

"You make it sound like you wouldn't be coming."

Her husband sighed in resignation.

"If that bunch of orders you got is any clue, then there'll be a pile like it at my workshop. I don't have the excuse of waiting for materials, not with a fine and well-stocked wood merchant right here in town. I'll get some of them done while you're away, and be on hand to collect any more commissions that come in for you."

She sighed as well, resigned to the situation she knew was correct. As much as it would have been nice for him to come, their family still needed to make sure they could pay the rent.

"Alright, but you have to promise me that the next time we visit her you _are_ going to come."

He smiled at her and nodded, while she went to prepare a bag for the trip. If they left right after breakfast, they could reach her sister's village by nightfall.

~(-)~

**Alaia Skyhawk: (Yawns) 1:30 am... (Yawns again then goes of to bed)**


	7. Family Ties 'Part 1'

**Alaia Skyhawk: Bit of a delay, but I've had one BUUUUUUUUSY weekend. Four Xmas brass band jobs, and a big rehearsal before one of them as well. Anyways, here's the next 'episode' of Liam's story. (Starts to grin) Hehehe, you'll see why when you see who is in the first scene XD**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Merlin TV series etc, but I do own the star of this fic... LIAM!**

**Music: "Shule Agra" Celtic folk song**

~(-)~

Chapter 7: Family Ties ~Part 1~

Solemn eyes gazed out of the window at the courtyard below, the pale, stone walls of the castle rising high around that central space where several knights gathered and waited for their mounts to be brought from the stables. This would be a meeting that had been promised for a number of years, a promise put on hold due to the busy nature of both his and his friend's lives. He'd not laid eyes on him for ten years, indeed not since before the start of the Purge, but the regular correspondence between them, both about personal matters of matters of state, had maintained the friendship.

King Uther turned his head slightly at the soft knock on his door, calling out to the visitor.

"You may enter."

The door opened, a blond-haired boy entering and bowing his head respectfully.

"You wished to speak with me, Father?"

Uther smiled at his nine-year-old son, gesturing with a hand for him to join him beside the window.

"Come here, Arthur." The young prince did as he was bidden, coming to stand at the window. Uther then indicated the knights gathered below. "Do you know where they are going, Arthur?"

The youth shook his head ever so slightly, looking up at his father with solemn blue eyes.

"I do not, Sire."

Uther placed a hand on his son's shoulder.

"I have sent them to escort a good friend of mine and his family, who are to come and visit us for a few days. I want you to know that when Lord Hargren and Lady Jancine arrive, you are to show them the utmost respect. They are also bringing their son with them, Tarven, to introduce him to you and I. He will be spending much of the visit in your company, and I want you to set a proper example for him. Do you understand?"

Arthur nodded, lowering his gaze to look out the window, as he then absently put his hand over the embossed silver armlet he wore. An armlet made for an adult, and which was very nearly too big to stay on his youthfully slender wrist.

"I do, Sire. I will be sure to act as is befitting of a prince of Camelot. I will make sure not to dishonour you in the presence of our guests."

The hand was lifted from the boy's shoulder, Uther's pride in his young son clear to see in his eyes.

"I'm certain you will. Hargren and I have been good friends for nearly thirty years, and he has served me loyally as Lord of Ulwin for half of that. I have no doubt he will think well of you." He indicated the door with a hand. "You may go, Arthur, return to your lesson. Your tutor will be waiting."

The young prince once again bowed his head in respect, before he turned and quietly left the chambers. Meanwhile in the courtyard outside, the horses had been brought round and the knights were now mounted up. They cantered out of the castle gates and into the city beyond, the people moving out of their way to let them pass along the mixture of earthen and cobbled streets.

Passing by an area dotted with both homes and workshops, the passage of the group of knights, resplendent in their silvery armour and scarlet cloaks, was watched by the wide brown eyes of a young girl. Her gaze followed them as they passed, her face framed by a curly and barely tamed mass of brown hair, the awe in her expression remaining there until a pleasant but firm voice shouted from the smithy beside the house.

"Guinevere... Standing there won't help Elyan get the charcoal. Hurry up, dear."

The eight-year-old jolted into action, hurrying around to the back of the workshop where the fuel-shed was.

"Sorry, father!"

She vanished from the view of the main street, while the knights continued on their way towards the city gates.

~(-)~

The small group of people walked along the earthen road, following the ruts left by innumerable carts passing between Ulwin and Camelot.

Alina led her children along that road towards the farming village of Tadoras, which was located just over half a day's walk from the trade town. Her sister had moved there almost fourteen years ago, after marrying her husband and moving to live on his family's farm. It had been a tough decision for her, to leave the home where she'd lived all her life and start a new one. She'd intended to continue weaving once she'd gotten settled, but quickly both farm life and motherhood had forced that to be set aside.

She had a new 'profession' now, and spent her days keeping her brood of two sons, a daughter, and a husband fed. Mending their clothes, making cheese, or drying meats and the occasional fish from the river, and just generally keeping the large farmhouse running.

Those thoughts about her sister made Alina smile to herself. She wasn't sure if Helen was going to like it, but with the amount of work that was usually done around the farmhouse, Sarah's thirteen-year-old daughter, Grace, would not be able to do it all alone if her mother agreed to come to Ulwin for a while. She would need help, and Helen would have to be the one to do it.

"Your Aunt Sarah and Uncle Jake aren't expecting us, so when we get there I want you four to be on your best behaviour. No messing around... and I mean you, Elias."

The fourteen-year-old let out an exaggerated sigh from where he trudged along behind her.

"Yes, mom."

"And keep an eye on Liam, and keep him out of trouble."

Another sigh.

"Yes, mom."

There was a chuckle, coming from the most bag-laden of the youths. Alan chuckled again, glancing sidelong at his brother and smiling.

"This makes a nice change... It's usually _me_ who gets this."

His mother looked over her shoulder at him, reproving.

"Alan, stop teasing your brother."

"Yes, mom."

The response was automatic, the young man eyeing the elder of his brothers while both of them grinned. They shared a kind of camaraderie that Liam was too young to appreciate yet, and it was probably the main reason the two of them got along so well despite the near constant teasing between them. One day, in a year or two, neither of them doubted that Liam would be joining in as well... much to their mother's mild dismay.

Their mother saw the look that had passed between them, Helen rolling her eyes behind them, and shook her head.

"Just behave yourselves and do what your uncle tells you to do. The last thing I want to hear is that you've been causing trouble with your cousins... like _last_ time."

Both Alan and Elias winced at that remark, the former glad that he was only going to be staying at the farm one night... His uncle had _not_ been happy when his bull had gone charging down to the river, as the result of a gate being left open due to a prank induced wresting match between the two of them and their eldest cousin, Ian. They wouldn't be doing _that_ again... having to chase down and bring back the bull, followed by having their backsides tanned by their uncle, once was enough.

Now a little more subdued, they followed their mother quietly for the remainder of the trek. They arrived at Tadoras just as dusk was drawing in, passing through the edge of the village to the farmhouse belonging to their aunt and uncle. Their mother's knock on the door got a quick response, the wooden panel creaking open a small way as a wary face peered through the gap.

The man who stood there then opened the door wide, smiling in welcome as he greeted his sister-in-law.

"Alina! Welcome! What brings you out here?" He turned calling into the house. "Sarah, your sister is here! ...Along with the two troublemakers, and Helen and Liam."

Once again Alan and Elias winced, while their uncle ushered them into the house and their aunt came over to hug their mother.

"Alina, it's good to see you, sister."

Alina returned the hug, smiling.

"I'm afraid I _have_ come for more than just a visit, but it can wait until morning."

Sarah noted that her sister had brought her children with her, and called towards the back of the house.

"Ian! Thom! You're sleeping in the barn tonight! We have guests!" She then pointedly looked at her three nephews. "And so are you two, and Liam is old enough to be out there as well. I'll make you some supper and then you can be off to bed."

Out of the three brothers, the eldest two sighed quietly in resignation, while the youngest seemed positively excited to be considered old enough to sleep out in the barn... He'd soon learn, once the novelty wore off.

~(-)~

Early the next morning Alan set out for Camelot, taking the fork in the road heading south-west from the village after promising to stop by the village on his way back so they could head back to Ulwin together. His mother was clearly concerned as she watched him head off on what was his first trip alone, but her sister placed a hand on her shoulder, murmuring as he passed from sight.

"Don't worry, Alina, that road is well patrolled. He'll be fine."

Alina turned to Sarah, still worried.

"I know, but he's never travelled alone or as far before. He's only fifteen."

"Nearly sixteen." Sarah led her back inside the cottage, the inhabitants of which were just beginning to stir in the early dawn of this new day. "Need I tell you, that most young men are that age when they set out on their own. It's only among the nobility you see them sheltered by their parents for longer. We common folk have to stand on our own two feet far earlier than the pampered nobles. Now, what brings you to see me?"

She sat down at a well-used table near the farmhouse's hearth, Alina seating herself opposite before answering.

"I've received a large number of complicated commissions, and I'm going to need someone more experienced than Helen to help with them. Alan's going to get me the parts I need to add two more harnesses to my loom, as well as a gift for his fiancée, Lillian."

Sarah stared at her in surprise, before breaking into a smile.

"He's asked for her hand in marriage and you're worrying about him being old enough to travel on his own?"

At her sister's laugh, Alina frowned while trying not to smile herself. After all, looked at that way it did seem silly.

"Sarah..." She sighed. "Anyway, I'm going to need help, otherwise it will take me twice as long to get each of them done and that won't seem good to the large number of noblewomen who's commissions I have. Lady Jancine went out of her way to put me in a good light with them, and if they become disgruntled at delays then it could embarrass her."

Sarah raised her eyebrows.

"Didn't I tell you that being friends with a noblewoman would be more trouble than it's worth? Commoners like us shouldn't get involved in the politics of the nobility."

"Those politics are what keeps trade flowing through Ulwin, and keeps my family fed and a roof over our heads."

The two of them regarded each other for a long moment, before Sarah shook her head at what was an old and oft visited debate for the two of them.

"Fine, you need someone experienced to draw the threads for the patterns. For how long?"

Alina grimaced a little.

"It's going to take me until at least late autumn to work through them all, and it would take until nearly spring next year without your help."

"Autumn?" Sarah grimaced as well. "That's a long time for me to be away from the farm, sister. Grace wouldn't be able to handle all the work in the house on her own."

Alina glanced in the direction of the small sleeping area she and her daughter had shared the previous night.

"Which is why I'm offering to have Helen stay here and help her. She might complain a little at first, but she'll help if I tell her too. She may be only eleven, but she's starting to understand the politics of being favoured by the nobles. She knows I'll need to get these commissions done as quick as possible."

Fingers rattled on the wooden table thoughtfully, as Sarah considered what her sister was asking before sighing.

"Alright, I'll come back to Ulwin with you while Helen stays here to help Grace. I'll have to be back for the harvest, though. I can't stay longer than mid autumn even if we haven't completed all those commissions. If we get the most complicated ones done first, Helen can help you with the easier ones instead of me. Is that fine with you? Because my husband is going to be a bit put out by this as it is."

Sarah had begun to smile as she'd made the prod about her husband, Alina smiling and chuckling in return.

"Yes, that's fine. Perfect in fact. It will give me a chance to teach Helen more about the complicated weaves, without embarrassing myself or Lady Jancine with delays."

The two of them reached across the table, entwining fingers in an old 'promise handshake' they'd used since they were children. It would be nice to spend a decent amount of time together after so much time spent apart.

~(-)~

**Alaia Skyhawk: There you go :)**


	8. Family Ties 'Part 2'

**Alaia Skyhawk: (Is feeling completely yuk) Uhhgg, I hate flu. Started with a cough, and as I type this I'm now progressing to the 'feel cold even when you're not, nose starts running, and ache all over' stage. (Grabs a tissue and starts writing)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Merlin TV series etc, but I do own the star of this fic... LIAM!**

**Music: "Llanthony Valley" Celtic folk song**

~(-)~

Chapter 8: Family Ties ~Part 2~

"King Uther is sending some of his best knights to accompany us, Tarven, which is a mark of his respect. We'll be leaving as soon as our escort arrives, and I don't think I need tell you that your father and I want you on your best behaviour."

Lady Jancine strode down the hall through the manor, her son following at her heels with a sullen frown on his face. She'd taken him from Lord Timon's care the day before, and had effectively barred him from speaking to Lord Markis by the fact that if he were not with her, then he was with one of her maids under the strict orders not to be disrespectful of the servant.

It was a short while later, when she'd left him with his father in the lord's study, that the youth voice his discontent to his father.

"Why do I have to be nice to the servants, Father? They're just _servants_."

Lord Hargren glanced at his son, whom sat in the chair normally occupied by the boy's mother. He'd expected this, although not quiet this soon. The boy surely needed to learn some tact, or at the very least learn to keep any contrary opinions to himself until he'd better judged if a situation were appropriate to voice them. If he continued to be so blunt once he was older, he could by indiscrete remakes turn himself into a target for assassination.

"Tarven, there is something that Lord Timon has clearly failed to teach you, which is why I am sending him to serve in Camelot. Servants are not _slaves_, they are _people_... and as such you should treat them with the respect they as people are due. Any noble who presumes to treat those who serve them as slaves, are doomed to see the prosperity of their lands crumble and fail. That is what happened to Lord Gamel, the previous steward of these lands. When your mother and I took over here, his treasury was empty, his town and villages barren and poor, and his people hated him to the extent that they were leaving in droves even if it meant an uncertain future in other lands. Many likely starved before finding new homes."

His son snorted in derision, the seven-year-old folding his arms and scowling.

"Then that's their _own _fault for leaving... Stupid peasants."

In the next instant his scowl abruptly changed into an expression of shock, as the sharp clip his father gave him around the ear nearly sent him toppling from the chair.

At the boy's yelp, Lord Hargren scowled. He hadn't realised his son had gotten this bad... He would make sure to warn Uther against giving Lord Timon any real position of influence or trust. For now though, in the matter of his son, this turn of attitude _had_ to be brought to a stop.

"I can see that the meaning behind your change in circumstances has not soaked in. You have been removed from Lord Timon's care, because his teaching you such things borders on _treason_ against your mother's principles and mine. At the banquet the other night, you not only insulted the eldest sons of two of our most _loyal _subjects, but you also insulted _me_ by doing so." Hargren's scowl had Tarven cowering in his chair, the lord's angry tone giving rise to a degree of fear in the child's eyes. "Samer and Alina were my _guests_, as were their children, and to insult the guests of one's host is to insult the host themselves. Had you done such a thing to a guest within the palace at Camelot, at best you would shame yourself... At worst you could be _exiled_ from the kingdom."

The young boy was now trembling, his voice quiet as he spoke.

"I'm... I'm sorry, Father..."

Lord Hargren relaxed a little, settling back into his chair having been leaning towards his son.

"The social status of a guest means nothing, remember that. It is the status of the _host_ that is important. If I chose to invite commoners to my banquets, then you are bound by etiquette to treat them with at least _reasonable _respect. What you did the other night was _not_ reasonable. Samer and Alina; we owe their family a _great _deal for the support they have given us. Without the help they willingly gave us when your mother and I first came here, then you would not be living in such comfort today. I would have you remember that, and learn from it. A man who respects those who serve him, will gain from them _far _more than if he forced them to work through oppression... Willing hands do far more, and far better, than _unwilling _ones." He pointed to a book that had been set on the desk beside his son. "Now, I want you to read that while I work, and _think_ about all that I've just told you... When we depart for Camelot, I will then trust that you will have learnt to keep your opinions to yourself."

Tarven picked up the book and began to read as he'd been told to, now thoroughly subdued.

~(-)~

The young man strolled along the forest road, whistling quietly under his breath as he walked.

Alan smiled to himself, hands stuffed into his pockets as he glanced up at the sky through the trees. It was nearing midday, and his stomach was voicing its need for food. It was time that he stopped for a rest.

Sighing, he un-slung his bag from his back and sat on a convenient rock nearby, pulling a chunk of bread from among his belongings and chewing on it thoughtfully. He supposed he could now consider himself to be halfway to Camelot, it was just a pity he didn't have a horse. What a man covered in three days on foot, he'd cover in less than two on horseback. It was then, almost as if to taunt him for those thoughts, that the sound of approaching horses caused him to turn his head to look in the direction of Camelot.

It was a group of several knights, _Knights of Camelot_, and they looked as though they were heading for Ulwin. He watched them pass with a small nod to respect to the man leading the formation, wondering what occasion would be sending them Lord Hargren's way.

~(-)~

The two young girls walked across the yard towards the barn, the elder of the two smiling sympathetically to the younger.

"Don't worry, Helen, it's not going to be that bad. Most of the things to do around the farmhouse are just regular house chores, and teaching you how to make cheese and butter will be _fun_."

Helen sighed, swinging the milk destined bucket that she carried.

"I know, Grace, but it just doesn't seem fair that I'm going to be stuck here while your mom helps mine with her weaving. Mom was supposed to start teaching me how to do the special stuff, but now I'll have to wait."

Grace sighed as well, frowning a little as they reached the barn.

"I heard them talking this morning; it's all because of politics. Your mom just needs to get the commissions done quick, or she'll embarrass herself and Lady Jancine by annoying the nobles who sent them. You'll be going home in mid-autumn, and will get to help your mom with the easier commissions that will be left by then."

Helen frowned, the two of them heading for the stall where the farm's two dairy cows stood waiting to be milked.

"Does your mom know you eavesdrop? Mine would tan my hide for listening to things that aren't my business."

Grace laughed, stopping and turning to smile at her cousin.

"Oh she knows, in fact she expects me to. In a farming village, gossip and eavesdropping are the best way to find out anything."

The squeal of a horse echoed from outside, accompanied by the pounding of hooves on earthen road. The two girls rushed to the barn door, watching as a rider came up the south road to the village and continued north at the fork to head for Ulwin.

Helen stared at him, watching him disappear in a cloud of dust.

"He seemed to be in a hurry."

Grace just shrugged, returning to the task of milking the cows.

"It's nothing, we see couriers charge past all the time. It's just part of being on the main road between Ulwin and Camelot."

With one last glance at the now distant rider, Helen followed her cousin. Grace lived here, so if she said it was nothing to worry about, then she should just forget it."

~(-)~

It was late afternoon when the rider arrived at Ulwin, sending his weary horse charging through the streets as people scrambled out of his way. He was haggard with exhaustion, his eyes haunted as he reached the gates of the manor and shouted out to the guards.

"Open the gates! I have urgent word for Lord Hargren! Open the gates!"

The guards scrambled to do so, allowing the rider to pass without his even having to slow the horse down. It did slow when he allowed it to though, upon reaching the steps at the front of the manor where he quickly dismounted and hurried inside.

He strode into the entrance hall, waiting there anxiously until the Lord of Ulwin came down the grand staircase with an expression of concern on his face.

"What is it? What brings you here with such urgency."

The messenger regarded his lord solemnly, his eyes speaking of the horrors he had seen.

"The village of Rilen, My Lord... Raiders attacked us, slaughtering all in their path. We drove them off, but they are heading this way. They are perhaps half a day at most behind me."

Lord Hargren became deathly still, before turning and shouting out his orders.

"Assemble the manor guard! We ride out at once!"

~(-)~

**Alaia Skyhawk: (Goes and curls up in bed, groaning) Nooooooo, I don't want to go to work tomorrow, but I HAVE TO! (Buries head in pillow) Stupid flu! ...You guys will probably see an update from me tomorrow, unless I feel even more crap than I currently do (Pulls covers over head and goes to sleep)**


	9. Family Ties 'Part 3'

**Alaia Skyhawk: Thanks for all your concern guys. Truth be told, I have my laptop on a support tray so I can work while sitting in bed. So, despite feeling crappy, I **_**am**_** technically 'resting' lol. Writing just gives me something else to think about other than how yuk I feel XD**

**(Added) I did write most of this yesterday, but since towards the end of it I kept dozing off sat among all my nice warm cushions, I went to bed and finished it today heheheehehehe.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Merlin TV series etc, but I do own the star of this fic... LIAM!**

**Music: "The Burdens of Duty" Merlin Season 1 OST**

~(-)~

Chapter 9: Family Ties ~Part 3~

The sun shone down upon Tadoras, happy laughter drifting on the wind. The rider from earlier had long been forgotten, but it was now that the terrible import of his passage made itself known to the village.

Alina and Sarah sat watching their children, as the group of youths took a short break from chores to play tag in front of the farmhouse. It was a happy scene, one that brought smiles to their faces, but those smiles disappeared into frowns when distant shouts reached their ears.

Sarah got to her feet, heading to the road and looking along it as several others in the village also did so. They all watched the south road with a hint of uncertainty, uncertainty that changed to fear when a horde of warriors on horseback charged out from under the tree-line a quarter of a mile away. The village's alarm bell began to ring, Elias and the other youths ceasing their game to turn and stare at the approaching raiders.

It was like a moment of utter stillness, a feeling of being separate from reality. Were they really seeing this? Was Tadoras, a village right at the _heart_ of Ulwin's lands, really about to be attacked?

The moment was shattered when one of the nearby women screamed out that everyone should run, most of the other women doing so and taking their children into houses for shelter.

That was what Alina and Sarah did, sending Helen, Grace, and Liam into the farmhouse. They then grabbed knives from the kitchen, rushing back outside to where Sarah's sons, her husband, and Elias stood with tools held at the ready. Sure, pitchforks, hoes, and such were not intended as weapons, but when wielded with intent they could still cause a lot of damage.

Jake looked at his wife when she came to stand beside him, frowning at her being there.

"You and Alina should get inside, Sarah. It's not safe out here."

Sarah frowned back, shaking her head.

"I will not cower inside that house, Jake. This is my home, and I am going to defend it."

Seeing the look in his wife's eyes, and knowing she wouldn't back down, Jake relented with a sigh and turned his attention back to the raiders which were very nearly upon them. Meanwhile Elias had also been trying to convince his mother to hide, but had been just as unsuccessful. Instead he placed himself beside her, pitchfork in hand, his voice grave as he spoke.

"Stay behind me, mom. I'll let you fight, but don't rush into it if you don't need to. Just watch my back... I'd never forgive myself if something happened to you."

"I understand."

She nodded, accepting his compromise, her grip tightening on the knife she held. They moved to the edge of the village, using the houses there as cover, and waited for the raiders to cover the last stretch of ground between them and the village. While inside the nearby farmhouse, Liam huddled in terror comforted by his equally terrified sister and cousin... as outside the raiders reached the village, and the screams of the ensuing battle echoed through the air.

~(-)~

The large group of mounted soldiers charged along the southward road, sent onwards by the lord riding at the head of the formation.

Lord Hargren cursed when he caught sight of newly rising smoke, digging his heels into the sides of his already tired horse and urging it to keep going.

"Tadoras is burning! Hurry!"

His horse let out a squeal of protest as he kicked it again, his grim expression mirrored by the force of men behind him. But they were not the only warriors who had seen the smoke, for on the road from Camelot a certain group of knights had also spotted it...

A deadly pincer of warriors was closing on the village and the raiders; they just had to hope they could get there before all of Tadoras was lost.

~(-)~

The screams of battle faded to moans of agony and cries of grief, the raiders driven back at least for a moment... but at a terrible price...

Sarah knelt over her husband, her face buried into the front of his shirt as she wailed in anguish. Jake was not the only one who had been felled in the first onslaught; several of the other men of the village had been killed as well.

Elias leaned heavily on his improvised weapon, the pitchfork stained with the evidence of the raider he'd managed to kill. He, like many others, had not escaped unscathed though, his left arm barely able to move due to the deep gash it had taken.

"Mom, are you ok?"

Alina nodded tearfully, using strips torn from her skirt to bind his arm.

"I'm fine."

One of the other villagers came over, the man's face grim.

"Two of the bastards got into one of the houses. They killed Mathew's wife, and his kids. I've told everyone else in the village; hide your kids somewhere else. I'd say send them into the woods, but those bastards are just waiting out there to come at us again. It we send them out, they'll just ride them down."

Sarah had looked up at those words, wiping away her tears and rising to her feet with knife held tightly in hand.

"Alina, in our barn there's a small gap at the edge of the barrel stack in the corner. Go get Grace and the others, and put them in there. My husband... Jake made a little hideaway behind there for our children, where they could play. The gap's too small for an adult to get in, so if they're quiet they should be safe there."

When his mother hesitated, Elias nudged her and tilted his chin to indicate the farmhouse.

"Go, before the raiders come back."

She hesitated only a moment more, before handing him her knife and hurrying into the farmhouse. She quickly entered the back room where the three youngsters cowered, grabbing and pulling Liam to his feet while gesturing for the two girls to follow.

"You're not safe in here. Sarah said there's a hiding place, behind the barrels in the barn."

Grace's eyes widened in recognition, before she nodded and took Liam by the arm.

"I'll take them, Aunt Alina."

"Hurry. The raiders will be back at any moment."

She followed the trio to the front of the house, watching as Grace led her cousins to the barn, before rejoining her son and sister at the edge of the village.

Inside the barn the trio of youths heard the screams as the raiders returned, trembling in their hiding place behind the barrels. It was an ideal hiding place, impossible to notice unless you knew it was there, concealed behind a slanted pile of barrels stacked three high at the back where they left a gap at the barn's corner. The space behind was shadowed, lit only by the glimmers of light that came between the boards of the wall, and it was a blessing that the corner they were in faced away from the battle. Even had they peered out between those slats, they would not be able to see the slaughter that ensued.

Helen, Grace, and Liam sat there, huddling together as things outside turned quiet. But it wasn't long before that silence was broken by the screams of women and children, as the raiders entered homes, barns, and sheds and brutally dealt with the occupants. And as the sounds came closer, it was Grace who whispered to her cousins after peeking through the slats and seeing that the village was starting to burn.

"We're not safe here. They're setting fire to everything! We have to get out before we're trapped."

Helen grabbed her arm, fearfully whispering.

"But mom said we should stay hidden."

Grace shook her head.

"We can't. The only way out of here is the door, and if they set fire to the barn while we're in it we won't be able to get out." She got up, heading for the gap leading out of the hiding place. "We have to go now, before they get here. If we're quick we can hide in the ditch out back."

She tugged Helen after her, the eleven-year-old relenting in the face of the older girl's common sense. It was true, if the barn were set alight while they were in it, they would be killed. They _had_ to go hide somewhere else.

They'd barely reached the door when the shout went up from the raider that had spotted them, the trio turning to flee for the fields. Grace was felled by the man's crossbow, Helen and Liam reversing direction and running back into the barn to the only place of safety they knew. Behind them another of the men was charging after them, the eleven-year-old girl hearing him and selflessly choosing to protect her little brother.

She pushed Liam towards the barrels, her voice shrill.

"_Hide, Liam!_"

He did as he was bidden, scrambling towards the hiding place while she grabbed a pitchfork and faced the warrior. The young boy didn't see what happened, but he heard it... His sister's last scream before the raider ran to the barrels after him.

Liam cowered behind the barrels as the man tried to reach him, their weight preventing him from moving them and the boy too far away to grab. Rather than waste time getting a longer weapon, he spat in disgust and returned to the barn door, his comrades setting it alight sure that the fire would claim the youth.

It was their last act of savagery, before a squad of eight knights charged in from the southwest and began cutting their way through them. The remaining raiders tried to flee northwards, right into the force from Ulwin, but it was too late for Tadoras.

Lord Hargren dismounted from his horse when he reached the devastated settlement, his expression full of anger and pain at the lost of the village and its people. The leader of the knights approached him, bowing in respect and regret.

"Lord Hargren, I am Sir Gregory. We saw the smoke, but I regret to say we arrived too late... There was only one survivor."

The Lord, who had been staring to the distance in anger, flinched and turned back to the knight.

"Who?"

The knight began to lead him to where one of the other knights was tending the youth, explaining as he did so.

"He was inside one of the burning barns. We heard his screaming, and broke through the wall to get to him. We've searched everywhere that isn't already ablaze. There was no one else. As for the boy, he's not spoken word since we rescued him. We do not know his name, or if he has any other family than what was here."

When they reached the other knight, Lord Hargren felt his heart sink with dread. He knew the boy, and knew that he would not have come to Tadoras alone, which meant only one thing... Some or perhaps even _all_ of the boy's family were now dead.

He hurried over and knelt beside the child, resting a hand on his shoulder gently.

"Liam? Liam, it is I, Lord Hargren. Liam?"

The sobbing child lifted his head to look at him, his face soaked with tears.

"L-Lord Hargren? M-mom... Elias... H-Helen... A-Are... Are they ok?"

The Lord closed his eyes in sympathy for a moment, before opening them and speaking quietly to the boy.

"Where is your father, and Alan?"

Liam sobbed again, wiping some of the tears from his face.

"D-dad is at home. H-he had work to do, and c-couldn't come."

"And Alan?"

Another sob.

"Alan's gone to C-Camelot, to get parts for mom's l-loom."

Lord Hargren breathed a small sigh of relief, knowing that while the lost was still great, the boy would not be alone in the world. He stood up, and called over one of his men.

"Put out what fires you can, and gather the bodies. There are three I wish to take back with me if they can be found."

It was a solemn convoy that returned to Ulwin in the dusk several hours later, a young boy sat with the Lord upon his horse. Only two silent bundles and a heavy heart... accompanying the warriors and Lord Hargren home.

~(-)~

**Alaia Skyhawk: I knew I had to do it, but still! (Bawls eyes out) I'll be posting a short fic over the next few days, something for Christmas, so this is on hold until that one is done. I'm now going to go write something cheerful, after writing something so depressing.**


	10. Inconsolable Grief 'Part 1'

**Alaia Skyhawk: Aww man, I just know I'm going to cry all the way through writing this. The song I wrote this to, I made up some different lyrics for it. Lady Jancine sings them partway through the chapter, so if you happen to look up the music prepare to sniffle at that scene because it's all the more poignant with it. I may actually record those lyrics to the instrumental version I listen to.**

**But if you want a really unearthly version to listen to, search "Boys Air Choir: Silent O Moyle" on Youtube.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Merlin TV series etc, but I do own the star of this fic... LIAM!**

**Music: "Silent O Moyle" Celtic folk song**

~(-)~

Chapter 10: Inconsolable Grief ~Part 1~

The face of every man was grim, the riders silent as they rode back into Ulwin with Lord Hargren and his tragic passenger at their head. The people of the town came to doorways to watch their passage in the evening gloom, all of them realising something terrible had happened even if no announcement was made.

Lord Hargren gestured to his men, indicating they continue onward to the manor without him. There was one sad duty he wished to perform, before the attack on Tadoras was announced to the people of Ulwin. He wanted Samer to learn the fate of his family first, from him and not from someone else.

He reached the house belonging to the carpenter, a house that once resounded with the sounds of Alina's loom. But never again would she set foot here, and never again would she use that loom.

Solemn and full of regret, Lord Hargren dismounted from his horse and lifted Liam down. He then gently led the boy to the door of the house, pausing at the threshold before knocking firmly on the wooden door.

He heard footsteps cross the room inside, the door opening to reveal Samer. The carpenter frowned when he found his lord stood there, that frown turning confusion and concern when he saw Liam was with him.

"What is it? What... What's happened?"

Lord Hargren shook his head sadly.

"I'm sorry, Samer, but the warning I received of the approaching threat did not reach us in time. Raiders struck the village of Rilen yesterday, and proceeded onwards into these lands. They struck Tadoras today just a few hours after noon... Liam was the only one survive the attack."

Samer stared at him, starting to slowly shake his head in denial.

"No... That can't be true... Alina, and my children... _No!_"

At his cry of denial, Lord Hargren firmly pushed Liam to him forcing him to divert his attention to the boy. Once Samer had hold of his son, Hargren did his best to ease the man's grief.

"Liam said that Alan had left to go to Camelot, so he should be safe and return here in a few days once he learns the news. I will deliver it _personally_, for am I to go to Camelot anyway. My escort, sent by Uther, are the ones who saved Liam... They could not find the body of your daughter; she must have been in the burning barn he was rescued from, and for that I am sorry. I have brought Alina and Elias back with me, they are being taken to the chapel of rest within my manor as we speak." He placed a hand on Samer's shoulder, his expression full of sympathy. "You may bury them wherever you wish, but I would like to offer a place in my personal gardens as a mark of my respect for you and your family. You need not make a decision now, but I will be waiting for you when you are ready to come for them."

He turned away and went to his horse, climbing up into the saddle with one last nod to Samer before riding away.

The carpenter numbly watched him go, before retreating back into the house and closing the door. He then let go of Liam, who watched in silence as his father walked slowly to the bed he'd shared with Alina and sat on its edge. When his father began to cry, breaking down into sobbing and wails of anguish, the seven-year-old then quietly went to the bed he'd shared with his brothers and curled up upon them in silence... So traumatised by the attack that he had yet to realise his mother, brother, and sister were gone.

~(-)~

"By the time anyone reached them, it was too late. I'm sorry, Jancine, but Samer's wife, as well as his children Elias and Helen, are gone. We couldn't find Helen, but Alina and Elias are in the chapel if you want to pay your respects."

Jancine sat there in shock as her husband left her chamber, hand pressed to her mouth as she fought to accept his words. Just a few days ago she'd been introducing Alina to nobles at the banquet, and now she was dead?

She stood up suddenly, turning and hurrying from her room. Those who tried to speak to her as she strode through the manor were ignored, the lady speaking to no one as she went straight to the chapel. Arriving there she entered, closing the door behind her before approaching the two biers that had been set up at the far end.

Alina and Elias appeared to only be sleeping, their wounds hidden by the pale linen cloth with which they'd been wrapped. All traces of dirt and blood had been cleared from their faces, leaving them looking peaceful despite the terrible way they had died.

Tears welled up in her eyes, as Jancine moved to sit on the stool at Alina's side. She remained there, gently stroking her friend's hair, until the sound of the chapel door opening caused her to look towards it.

Samer was stood there, a small figure behind him. He did not need to speak for her to see his request, and without a word she got up and allowed him to pass her at the door while she took care of Liam outside.

He did not want his son to see them. Did not want Liam to have to face the sight of his dead mother and brother. Samer wanted to shield him from that pain, and she was happy to oblige. Liam had already gone through so much. It would have been cruel to force him to face them.

Inside the chapel, Samer moved to his son's side, reaching out once to touch the boy's shoulder, before he went and sat where Jancine had been, staring at the silent face of his wife before once again breaking down into sobs of grief.

In the antechamber outside, Lady Jancine could hear him wailing. Liam noticed it too, clinging tightly to her in silence until she began to stroke his head and sing softly what was both a lament and a lullaby.

"Hush, oh dear little one, the day is long and weary. Roads dark and lonely, the light it has gone. But hope leads us through the night of pain and darkness passing. Follow on their way, in time you will be strong. Onwards beneath sun, never retreating. Soon day will come when the dreams fly free. In the night when you are softly sleeping. That is when those that have gone before will come. Their dreams are you, you who walk now they are gone. Hold to their faith, dear child, you who will be. The answer to their prayers for this world. That you live all your dreams here, in the light of the risen sun... That you live all your dreams, in future just begun."

He fell asleep leaning against her, and remained there until Samer emerged from the chapel.

Samer's eyes were red with tears, his voice hoarse from crying when he spoke to her.

"I wish to accept the offer, for my wife and son to be buried here within the manor grounds."

She nodded solemnly, wiping away one of the tears that had crept from her eyes as she'd sung for Liam.

"Would that we could stay for the funeral, but my husband and I cannot. We are departing at noon, for Camelot, but you have our word that we will seek out Alan and let him know what happened. He will miss the funeral, but he will still be able to pay his respects to them when he returns to Ulwin."

Samer nodded in thanks, murmuring quietly.

"Thank you, for all you and Lord Hargren have done for us. Few are those among the nobility who would show such kindness to mere commoners."

Jancine rose to her feet, gently waking Liam as she did so.

"Sad as I am to admit it, I know it's true. They know not the honourable and wonderful people they have among those who serve them, because they blind themselves to them. I would not change for all the world, the time I have known your family. My husband and I owe you a great deal, and it is an honour to be able to repay that in whatever way we can at this time. I will inform the staff to have the graves prepared ready for this evening. Let Alina and Elias go to their rest as sun sets, along with prayers for Helen whom has already gone to hers."

She passed the still sleepy Liam to him, before offering him a deep curtsey of respect. It was the least she could do for he who has lost much.

~(-)~

It had been a solemn air that had enveloped the town, the people subdued as they went about their business beneath the noonday sun. The news of the lost of Tadoras had brought much grief and anger, there not a single family here that did not have friends or relatives in that village. The people wanted answers, and while he had suspicions as to the source of the attack, Lord Hargren could not give them answers.

He rode out of the town with the escort of knights, Jancine and his son following behind him within that convoy. He truly wished he could stay for the funeral, but he knew that if Uther learnt he had delayed his departure for commoners it would not be looked on well. That was one of his friend's greatest flaws, that while he cared for the well being of his people, he rarely showed sympathy for any losses they might suffer. For Uther, attending the funeral of a commoner was an outlandish thing, but even so Lord Hargren intended to pay the proper respects to Samer's family once he returned from the visit.

While he and his family rode away from Ulwin and headed for Camelot, back in the town Samer and Liam had returned to their house to prepare for the funeral. They were not alone though, for upon their arrival they had found someone waiting for them.

It was Lillian, Alan's fiancée, and her brown eyes were as rimmed with red as Samer's. She mutely went about the house once they were inside, cooking food for them and making sure Liam was clean. The boy still had the scent of smoke lingering around him, his clothing streaked with soot and his face with dirt. Lillian bathed him; ignoring his half-hearted and quiet protests before dressing him in his best breeches and the new shirt his mother had bought him for the banquet.

She laid out Samer's best clothing as well, leaving the carpenter to prepare in his own time. That he did, when the day grew late and sunset drew near, and it was in silence that the three of them went to the manor in the dimming light.

They were ushered respectfully into the manor grounds, and led to the rear of the main building to the gardens that lay there. There, in the heart of those carefully tended grounds, they were shown to a small glade set amid a group of hazel trees. It was there that the now fully wrapped forms of Alina and Elias were gently lowered into the ground to the sound of Lillian's tears.

Samer and Liam, though, remained silent. One too numb now to cry, and the other not understanding what was going on. They remained there as the sun set, waiting until the graves were filled in and a last prayer said over each. It was then that Lillian led the two of them back to their home, dressing Liam for bed and singing him to sleep before promising Samer she would return in the morning.

Lillian closed the door behind her softly, but no amount of sympathy could ease the pain in Samer's heart... as once again his sobbing filled the house that would never again know the voice of his wife.

~(-)~

**Alaia Skyhawk: (sniffles) The next chapter is going to have me bawling my eyes out as well. On a side note, if you want something to cheer you up after this, I did a Christmas fic called "A Question of... Gift Wrap?" It's AU from this and Motives, but it's still fun.**


	11. Inconsolable Grief 'Part 2'

**Alaia Skyhawk: (Sniffles) Poor Liam and Samer, once again I find myself torturing my OCs :S**

**Also, happy new year everyone :)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Merlin TV series etc, but I do own the star of this fic... LIAM!**

**Music: "Silent O Moyle" Celtic folk song**

~(-)~

Chapter 11: Inconsolable Grief ~Part 2~

The knock on the door the following morning was quiet, a head with long brown hair tied neatly with a ribbon, poking around it when the visitor opened the door.

Lillian entered the house, noting that both Samer and Liam were still in bed. She went to where Liam lay, gently rousing him despite his protests and telling him to go get water from the well at the end of the street. She then began to prepare breakfast, only noticing now the pouch and note that had been left off to one side. It was from Lord Hargren, an expression of sympathy along with a sum of money to keep Samer and Liam going until Alan got back and the family could find their feet.

She sighed, at once grateful for having such a kind-hearted lord in charge of her hometown. It would make things a lot easier for the family to bear over the coming weeks.

Moving quietly, she went over to the loom in the corner and put the pouch in the compartment hidden beneath it. She'd learnt about it from Alan, for it had been their intention to hide a present for her soon-to-be in-laws and let them find it there. She doubted that would happen now, for to use the hiding place in such a way would only bring renewed pain to Samer.

She heard him start to rouse from his bed not long after Liam returned with the water, the boy now eating his breakfast of bread and jam at the table.

"I've prepared some breakfast for you, Samer, and there's water for you to wash. I'll take Liam with me to the market; there are some things you need to stock up on. I'll have him home in a few hours, so I can make you something for dinner and..."

She stopped before adding 'so you'll have some time to yourself to think', she didn't need to say it. He nodded once in thanks for her understanding and her help, before she ushered his son out of the house and down the street.

Outside things were returning to normal in Ulwin, the general atmosphere of anger and sadness giving way to the necessity of just getting on with living. People had to work to eat, time for grief was usually very small, and had he not been given the sum of money by Lord Hargren, Samer would likely have had to return to work in the workshop today.

Lillian frowned to herself at that thought, knowing that it wasn't really the best to leave him brooding in his house. But without Alan here to force him to go to work and get on with things, she wasn't really close enough to the family to force him herself. Yes she was engaged to his eldest son, but that didn't give her the right to do more than ease things for him. What worried her more was Liam's silence, and that he clearly seemed to have just blanked out the events of the past two days. He was walking around like a little ghost of his old self, while at the same time showing no outward grief. When Alan got back, she would make sure he'd get Liam to laugh and smile again.

She nodded to herself in determination, her decision made. When Alan got back from Camelot, she would ask her parents to let her move out even though she was still only fifteen. She'd then go and live with Alan, Samer, and Liam, and make sure they had a normal family life again. It would be painful to bring her candle making gear into the house, and take the two looms out, but the transition would help them move on from the loss. Her parents would understand her wanting to help her new family and her husband-to-be, and they would support her decision, she was sure of it.

She took Liam around the market, buying the supplies he and his father needed from the few coins she'd kept out of the pouch from Lord Hargren. She then went back to her parent's house, taking him with her and leading him into the workshop tacked onto the side of it.

"I'm home, Mom! I'll be going out again just before midday."

Her mother came to the side door that led into house proper, noting as she did so the subdued figure of Liam. She then turned to her daughter.

"How is Samer doing?"

Lillian set down the basket of food she'd been carrying, gently leading Liam to and setting him down on a nearby stool.

"It's hit him hard, really hard. I just hope Alan gets back soon, because his father needs him to be here and Liam does too."

Her mother descended the single step into the workshop, going over to Liam and plucking the boy to his feet.

"I'll look after him for a while. You need to make the candles for that order from the merchant, especially if you're going to help at Samer's house again this afternoon."

Lillian hesitated a little, her voice causing her mother to pause on her way back to the door.

"About that... As soon as Alan gets home, I want to move to his house." She raised her hands. "I know what you'll say, don't worry I won't be shameful and share a bed with him before we're married. But he's going to need me to help look after Liam, especially once he gets his father up and working again. After what's happened, I would have ended up moving into that house with them anyway. Leaving Samer to raise Liam all on his own wouldn't have been right."

Her mother regarded her for a long moment, before she sighed with acceptance.

"I understand, and it makes me proud to see you acting so grown up and responsible. You're going to make Alan a fine wife, one that I know he will be as proud of as I am." She tilted her chin towards the candle racks, and the moulds. "Go on, make those candles. I set the burner to warm the tallow while you were out, so it should be just about ready to be used."

Lillian smiled at her mother, turning to her work as the older woman led Liam into the main part of the house. To have her support meant everything to her, and reassured her that this was the right thing to do. There would be smiles and laughter in that house again, she and Alan would make sure of it.

~(-)~

The young man walked among the stalls, an already heavy sack hanging from his shoulder.

Alan browsed through the market, searching for something special for his fiancée. The parts for his mother's loom were already bought, the source of the weight in the sack, and now the remainder of the coins Alina had given him lay there in his pocket urging him to find that gift which would be both from him and also from his mother and father. There was any amount of jewellery for sale, but unfortunately most of it was beyond his means to afford. Eventually he did find something, though, as pretty as anything made of gemstones yet a fraction of the price. He snapped it up, admiring it as the stall owner wrapped it in cloth and tucked it into a pouch.

It was a wire spiral that could be coiled around a wrist, threaded with many small pieces of seashell lacquered in several bright colours. Between each piece was a tiny silver bead, making the entire thing sparkle in the sunlight. As soon as he'd handed over the coins for it he tucked it inside his shirt, secure just above his belt. He wasn't going to let it leave his person before he got back to Ulwin, not until he saw the look on his mother's face when he showed her what he'd bought for Lillian.

He smiled at the though, even as he decided to spend the rest of the day looking around at the sights within Camelot. There was no hurry to get home, not while his mother and siblings were with his aunt and uncle. Staying one more night wouldn't hurt.

He strolled off down the street, still smiling to himself. He wanted to see as much as he could while he was here, so he'd have lots of things to tell his youngest brother when he got back home.

~(-)~

The house was quiet, but not quiet as much as it had been earlier. Lillian glanced around to where Samer sat at the table with Liam, the carpenter half-heartedly teasing his son by tapping him on the nose with his spoon. The attempt at silliness was small, and Liam did respond to it even if only with a tiny smile, but it was enough to reassure her that the boy could still do so and that Samer seemed to be regaining his feet.

She served up the supper of soup and bread, the three of them eating still in silence. Once the meal was ended, Liam started to yawn and she moved to get him ready for bed.

A hand on her arm stopped her, Samer rising to his feet.

"Thank you for helping, Lillian, but I'll put him to bed tonight. You get yourself home, I can manage."

She smiled, nodding.

"I'll come in the morning to make breakfast again. I could look after Liam for you, if you want to go to the workshop and do some of your commissions."

He tilted his head, smiling a small amount before replying.

"Breakfast would be good, but I'll have to think about the work. I think it might be best to wait for Alan to get home."

Lillian sighed, still smiling.

"I'll see you in the morning, then. Sleep well." She then went over to Liam, ruffling his hair. "Don't give your father any trouble, young man, or I'll tell Alan."

She nodded to Samer one last time, before heading out the door and closing it behind her. Once she was gone, Samer's smile faded and he quietly led his son to the back of the room. He then helped him into his nightshirt and into bed, before seating himself on its edge and stroking his son's hair.

"I'm going to tell you a story, Liam, the one that Alan didn't get to finish. Do you want to hear it?"

Liam turned his head to look at his father, his previously passive expression showing a glimmer of curiosity.

"Really? You'll tell me it?"

Samer nodded, reaching out to tuck the edge of the blanket under his son's chin.

"Yes, now listen... A long, long time ago, back when there were no kingdoms or kings, that was when the first of them were born. The people said they were blessed by the gods, and by the land itself, and that even the skies answered to their call. But it wasn't the skies that answered them; it was the Dragons that ruled over those heavens that would come to their voices... They were the first Dragonlords, and it's said that the sight of them sat majestically astride the shoulders of dragons was what inspired the men who would found all of the great kingdoms of our land. The first Dragonlord was called Albrin, and the dragon he rode was called Denar. Their fated meeting was millennia ago, at a place few have ever seen since. The fabled Crystal Cave, the cave where Albrin heard the call of the Old Magic and something within him answered. He called up the skies and Denar came down at his cry, the same moment a shard of one of the cave's crystals broke free of its place of rest."

Liam yawned, his eyelids starting to droop closed.

"What happened?"

Samer stroked his hair again, tears running down his cheeks.

"The two of them carried it out into the world, seeding magic in their wake, the crystal's power awakening yet more Dragonlords as it passed overhead. They too took flight upon the shoulders of mighty dragons, spreading the spark of magic far and wide until there was no place where it did not flourish. Thus began the age of magic... the age of enchantment that ended nine years ago... The age that you never got know..." Liam's eyes now drifted closed, his breathing slowing as fell into slumber. Samer then got up, leaning down to place a kiss on the boy's forehead and murmuring as he stood up and stepped back. "Sleep well, my son... and live well. Be happy with Alan and Lillian, and never give up on your dreams."

He pulled the curtain closed across the back of the room, heading to the hearth and taking a moment to look at the carved figurine of a woman that stood there. He then picked up the coil of rope which hung from a hook on the wall near the front door, and walked towards the silent frame of Alina's loom... before uncoiling the length and reaching up to loop it around the corner of the frame...

~(-)~

**Alaia Skyhawk: Yeah, I know, Samer is a complete IDIOT for doing what he has... but he just couldn't bear to be without Alina, and knows Lillian will look after Liam alongside Alan. (sniffles)**


	12. Inconsolable Grief 'Part 3'

**Alaia Skyhawk: Poor Liam :(**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Merlin TV series etc, but I do own the star of this fic... LIAM!**

**Music: "Silent O Moyle" Celtic folk song**

~(-)~

Chapter 12: Inconsolable Grief ~Part 3~

The young boy in the bed shifted under the covers, blearily opening his eyes to the nighttime darkness of the house. Something didn't seem right, the house was too quiet, and sitting up in his bed he noticed by the pale moonlight entering through one of the small windows that his father wasn't in bed. That was what had woken him, the absence of the subtle sounds of his father sleeping.

Rubbing at his eyes, Liam slid his feet out from under his blankets and stood up, walking to where the two halves of the curtain that separated off the sleeping area joined. Pulling one part aside and stepping into the main part of the house, he then stopped utterly still.

The dim red glow from the embers in the hearth lit the outer part of the room with only a dark red glimmer, but there was light enough for him to clearly see the silent figure that hung limply from the corner of his mother's loom. He stood there... staring... eyes slowly widening as he took a hesitant step forwards.

"Dad?"

He walked closer, stopping midway across the room.

"Dad?"

He walked the few remaining steps to his father's side, a small hand reaching out shake his cold arm.

"_Dad?_"

Samer didn't answer, the darkness within the room thankfully concealing much of his darkened face above the rope from which he hung. Something within Liam finally seemed to register that something was wrong, and the boy started to back away before running to the front door and darting outside.

Liam stumbled down the street as the town watchman called the midnight hour, his turmoil filled mind sending him to the only place he could think of... He had to get to Tadoras, to find his family. They _had_ to be there, and if he could find them then they could come back to Ulwin with him and wake his father up.

Lost in that denial, in the denial of a young child unable to accept that almost his entire family was gone, Liam stumbled onwards into the night.

~(-)~

The knock on the door was soft, more a gentle announcement than a request to enter. Lillian had been smiling slightly as she arrived at the house, but that smile had turned to a puzzled frown when she discovered the front door was ajar. When she stepped inside and looked around, the following scream of horror brought several people running from the surrounding houses.

Lillian covered her face with her hands, shaking with shock at the image of the dead carpenter that was almost etched into her mind. She couldn't move as he was cut down, his neighbours wrapping him in a blanket from one of the beds before one of them touched her gently on the shoulder.

The woman's expression was one of sympathy, as she did her best to comfort the fifteen-year-old.

"Are you all right?" She turned to gaze at the now bundled body. "It's such a shame... I guess he couldn't face living without his wife or his lost children."

Lillian jolted, her eyes going wide as she rushed to the back of the house. Pulling the curtain aside, she searched the sleeping area but found only rumpled blankets on one of the beds. It was then that she realised who was missing.

"Where's Liam? Liam's _gone!_"

The woman frowned.

"Samer's youngest? He was here?"

Lillian brought a hand to her mouth in horror, rushing towards the door shouting out to those that had gathered outside.

"Has anyone seen Liam? He's seven years old, blond hair... He was _here_ last night when I left! Samer told me he would put him to bed!" She stopped in her tracks, turning slowly to look at the front door of the house. "The... the door was open. _Gods_, Liam must have seen... _We have to find him!_"

One of the neighbours took her by the shoulders, trying to calm the now hysterical girl, while others set out into the town to spread the word of the missing child.

~(-)~

The morning light was cast upon the grim expression of the noble man, a man who had ridden through most of the night to reach Camelot at this dawn hour.

Lord Hargren ignored the concerned expressions of his escort, and ignored the yawning of his young son. The ride had been hard on the child, but he would have plenty of time to rest while he was here in Camelot. What mattered right now was finding Alan, and if he were still in the city then there was only one place he would be at this hour.

Hargren led the way to the Rising Sun Tavern, dismounting from his horse without a word and entering the premises. Looking around the common room, the startled clientele staring at him, one of them rose to their feet to regard him with confusion.

"Lord Hargren?"

Alan walked over, frowning as he stopped before his lord.

The lord sighed, reaching out to place a hand on the young man's shoulder.

"I am here in Camelot on personal matters, but I'm afraid I also bear tragic news for you... Alan, I'm sorry, but Tadoras was attacked three days ago. Only your brother, Liam, survived."

"_What?_"

The entire common room fell silent at that exclamation, Lord Hargren lowering his head in sympathy.

"He's been returned to Ulwin, to your father, and your mother and brother have been buried within my estate. Helen's body could not be found." He released Alan's shoulder, backing up a step. "You should hurry home. I will leave a horse outside for you. If you ride hard, you can be back in Ulwin by tomorrow morning."

Alan stared at him for a moment longer, before hurrying back to his table and grabbing the bag that had been under it. He then strode out the door past his lord, who upon following him offered him the reins of his horse.

Without a word Alan stepped up into the saddle and turned the horse to head for the city gates, kicking the creature into a canter and then to a gallop one he was clear of the walls.

Lord Hargren and Lady Jancine watched him go in silence, before the former nudged his son to sit forward in his saddle so he could climb up to sit behind. This visit to Camelot was meant to be a joyous occasion, but for he and his wife it would now be only shadowed by what had happened.

They resumed their ride towards the castle, unaware of what was happening back in their lands.

~(-)~

The early morning light cast the shadows of the nearby forest across the ground, those shadows reaching out towards the small figure that stumbled down the road.

Liam staggered onwards, focused solely on reaching the village where he believed his family to be. Nothing else mattered but that goal, not the hunger that gnawed at him or the terrible weariness that tried to drag his exhausted body to the ground. He kept walking, putting one foot stubbornly in front of the other, until the rising sun lit the charred remnants of Tadoras before him.

Tearful green eyes gazed about as he reached the village edge, moving from one charred building to another, lingering on the dark stains which lay upon the earth all through the settlement. The bodies were gone, buried in a mass grave at the other end of the village, but even what he could see was enough to reawaken the horror of that terrible day.

Liam stopped walking, standing in the middle of the road near the farmhouse that had belonged to his aunt and uncle. His gaze moved to the charred remnants of the barn, his eyes widening with the remembered echo of his sister's dying scream. He started to shake, at long last the realisation sinking in. His mother was dead, Elias was dead, Helen was dead... and now his father was dead as well. He was stood here all by himself... _alone_...

His shaking worsened, tears welling up in his eyes before he dropped to his knees shrieking in despair. His wails echoed across the village, shrill and full of the anguish of a grieving child. So loud were his cries that they were heard at the nearby graveside, the group of individuals whom stood there paying their respects, all turning to face the sound.

One of them moved, walking through the charred village to seek the source of the crying, and found themselves stood over the sobbing form of a young boy.

Liam heard the person approach, but in his sorrow he had no interest. He just stayed there, sobbing into his hands, until that person knelt down beside him and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Hey kid, are you alright?"

The voice was young, gentle and kind, and yet held an air of authority that made Liam lift his head to look at him. He then stared at the brown-haired stranger, at the twelve-year-old boy who smiled at him with such sad blue eyes.

"W-who are you?"

The boy continued to smile as others from his group began to gather close by, before he gently wiped a tear from Liam's cheek.

"There's no need for you to be scared… My name is Kalem..."

~(-)~

**Alaia Skyhawk: If you've got a good memory, you should recognise that name. Onwards to the next 'episode' :)**


	13. A New Life 'Part 1'

**Alaia Skyhawk: Ok, I've just found a BBC map of the Kingdom of Camelot and realised I've put a few landmarks in the wrong blasted place. I've corrected the location of Ulwin, it's now northeast of Camelot, not directly west, and edited all the chapters of this which reference where it is in relation to the city. But all references to where the Darkling Woods are in "A Question of Motives" I can't be arsed to change. The map shows them as being north of Camelot, yet I'm pretty sure someone somewhere in the show says they're south, which is why I put them south. Ah well, they're staying south on mine; I might post my edited map on my fanartcentral account at some point.**

**Might I also add that you can tell "Camelot's" mapmakers aren't the best when it comes to scale. The Ridge of Ascetir, which is pretty much certain the place where Kilgharrah hangs out as it's the only landmark remotely like his cliff on the map, is "three days walk" from Camelot, yet Merlin can catch up to Morgana and Uther when they visit Gorlois' grave when he's on foot, and they rode for less than a day to reach it... Yet it's the same distance from the city as the ridge (-_-); Also, the Labyrinth of Gedref, again it's shown a hell of a long way from Camelot and yet it doesn't take that long for Merlin and Arthur to get to it. Even accounting for them being on horses, the timescale is still skewed, and the same goes for Merlin going to the Isle of the Blessed :S**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Merlin TV series etc, but I do own the star of this fic... LIAM!**

**Music: "I Left Him On The Mountainside" Celtic folk song**

~(-)~

Chapter 13: A New Life ~Part 1~

Liam continued to stare at this new person, Kalem's smile not so much as flickering as he gazed back. He had such a peaceful air about him that the grieving child just couldn't turn away, couldn't turn away from this boy who offered him comfort. Tentatively he moved towards him, before throwing himself into Kalem's arms and sobbing into the front of his shirt.

The youngster sighed, putting his arms around the crying child and petting his hair in sympathy.

"It's alright, just let the tears out. Anyone who says men shouldn't cry needs some sense knocked into them." He looked down at the top of Liam's head, still stroking his hair. "What are you doing out here, kid? Where's your family?"

Liam looked up at him, choking back a sob.

"Mom... and Elias and Helen... were here with m-me. Lord Hargren t-took me back to d-dad in Ulwin, but dad h-he..." He went silent for a moment, before breaking into a wail. "_Why did he leave me? He wouldn't wake up!_"

As Liam's crying was renewed, Kalem pulled him close in a supportive embrace with a grim expression. His eyes spoke of his opinion of Liam's father, hard with anger as he turned to look at his companions nearby.

"The kid's coming with us, it's obvious he has no one or he wouldn't have come out here after his father _offed _himself. That git may have run away like a coward and left him on his own, but I'm not going to. The kid's been through enough as it is, if he was here when this place was burned."

A few of them began to mutter, once of them voicing what those individuals were thinking.

"He's too young, he'd just be dead weight using up supplies and slowing us down."

Kalem stiffened, slowly rising to his feet and pulling Liam up with him. Once he was stood, he glared at the speaker and other protestors.

"I do more than my fair share anyway, so I don't see what the problem is. If I want to bring him with us, then you can call it evening things out."

When the man tried to protest again, he stopped and went pale. Kalem's narrowed eyes had turned gold, and the air around him had begun to stir restlessly, but before anything could happen the leader of the group came forward and broke up the impending fight.

"That won't be necessary, Kalem." He turned to those who had been protesting. "And you lot should know better. I founded this gang as a family for those who have lost theirs, or who have nowhere else to go. As far as I can see, that kid fits _both _descriptions. Now shut up with your complaining and finish gathering what supplies you can find from these houses. We've paid our respects to Tadoras' dead, and they won't be needing what's left here. Get to it!"

The gang leader sent the men on their way, giving one of them a slap round the head to hurry them along, while Kalem smiled down at and reassured the now uncertain child he held.

"You hear that? You're my little brother now, and that means I'm going to look after you. So tell me, what's your name?"

Liam stared up at him, hesitating. This boy was going to be his 'brother'?

"L... Liam."

Kalem continued to smile, gently ruffling the child's blond hair, once again the quiet and confident twelve-year-old that had first approached him.

"Well then, Liam, welcome to our family." He pointed to the gang leader. "That's Gavin, our leader, and he sets the rules. Do what I tell you, and don't disobey him. He's fair, and he makes sure everyone does their share of the work and chores, so you don't have to be scared of him. He only tells people off when they deserve it, like those guys. Those three are _always_ complaining about _something_."

The twelve-year-old snorted as he indicated the trio of men who had raised the fuss, Liam reassured by his confidence. When it came time to leave, and Kalem lifted the tired youngster to carry him piggyback, Liam found himself smiling ever so slightly. He felt safe and secure, no longer alone, dozing off as the gang followed the road south... heading for the Forest of Ascetir.

~(-)~

The trio of guests entered the Great Hall, striding down its centre with the eldest of the three at their head.

Lord Hargren smiled as he went up to Uther clasping arms with him as the king greeted him.

"It's good to see you, old friend. I see the years have been kind to you."

Hargren chuckled, as he noted both of them were sporting grey hairs that neither had possessed at their last meeting.

"Perhaps, but I fear it won't be much longer before I am forced to admit I'm going grey." He turned to Jancine and Tarven, indicating them with an outstretched arm. "You remember my wife, Lady Jancine, and this is my son, Tarven."

Jancine ushered her son forward, prompting him to bow as she curtseyed gracefully.

"It is a pleasure to be here, My Lord."

Uther smiled, coming forward to clasp hands in greeting.

"The pleasure is mine. Now allow me to introduce to you my son, Prince Arthur." He turned to wave forward the young boy that had been stood with him, the blond youth doing as bidden. "Arthur, I will trust that you will show young Tarven around during his family's visit."

Arthur bowed slightly to his father, nodding once.

"Yes, Sire."

Uther turned back to his guests, still smiling.

"Now, I'm sure you will wish to get settled after your journey."

He waved forward a pair of servants, whom had been waiting to show the guests to their rooms. Before following them, Lord Hargren paused and murmured to his friend.

"Tomorrow, once the formalities of today are over, you and I need to talk about recent matters that have come to concern me. I know there is not time today, for you must hold a feast to welcome me and mine to Camelot, and I must show my face to the nobility that reside here, but it cannot wait longer than until tomorrow."

Uther sighed, his expression grim.

"I believe I may know what you speak of, or at least something in connection to it. We will discuss it tomorrow morning, once the social formalities are over."

Hargren nodded once in agreement, before following his wife and son from the hall. Meanwhile Arthur looked to his father uncertainly, knowing something was wrong yet unknowing of any details. Uther just sent him on his way, instructing him to return to his tutor. The boy was too young yet to get involved in the politics that governed times under threat of war.

~(-)~

Green eyes watched the scene uncertainly, their owner practically clinging to the side of the boy who'd named himself his new 'brother'.

Liam followed Kalem everywhere, never straying more than a few feet from him while the gang set up to rest for midday. They were in the woods that lay between Tadoras and Rillen, set just off the road at a regularly used rest stop for travellers. They wouldn't reach the northern edge of the Forest of Ascetir until they'd passed the other village, travelling into lands seldom walked by people.

He stayed by Kalem, as the other boy began cutting chunks of meat from one of the dried sides of pork the gang had taken from the ruins of Tadoras. It seemed he was one of the gang's cooks, with some gathering firewood and others patrolling the surrounding area for signs of danger. After a short while of tossing meat chunks into a large pot along with barley and herbs, one of the men building the cook-fire in the campsite's oft used fire pit shouted over.

"Hey, Kalem, the wood's too damp to light."

Kalem stopping in his filling the pot, sighing exaggeratedly and shaking his head.

"And I keep telling you that if you bothered to keep a decent amount of dry tinder in your bags, you wouldn't have had to ask me." He looked at the stack of wood, pointing to it with a small frown. "_Forebearne._"

The wood instantly burst into flame, the man beside it grinning.

"Thanks."

Kalem just shook his head again, muttering under his breath about lazy bums who couldn't be arsed to gather tinder. As for Liam, he was staring at him and the now crackling cook-fire both stunned and puzzled by what had happened.

"How did you do that?"

At the sound of the quiet and tentative question, Kalem glanced at the boy beside him with a smile.

"Magic. It's illegal in Camelot, but that's only because King Uther believes that all people who use magic are bad. All of us in this gang, though, know that he's just being an idiot."

The gang leader, Gavin, came over, nodding as he looked down at their newest member.

"Aye, Kalem here has never hurt a soul with his magic except in defence, and he's a huge asset to our group. Our 'home' is an old castle just inside the northern edge of the Forest of Ascetir, but the place is known for the monsters that hang around there. Kalem's the one who chases them off if they try to bother us."

Beside the now impressed Liam, the twelve-year-old sorcerer nodded sagely.

"That's right, and one day I'm going to be a great sorcerer and prove to the world that magic isn't evil. The Druids think I could even become a High Priest, because I have an affinity, but I'd have to leave the gang to do that. So for now I'm staying put and learning what I can on my own, but one day I'll show everyone just how strong I can be."

"Wow."

At Liam's obvious awe, Gavin chuckled and picked up the now prepared pot.

"I can't fault him for his ambition, but I don't deny we'll miss him when he does decide to go. You never know though, maybe the Druids will loan us one of theirs when he does go off to learn to be a High Priest." He reached down and ruffled a protesting Kalem's hair. "But that'll be a while yet, he's still barely more than a sprouting sapling. He'll have to get a few more years on him yet."

"Hey!"

Kalem batted the hand away from his now messy hair, returning the favour by making Gavin's stand on end courtesy of a wordlessly summoned gust of wind.

Looking at the indignant frown beneath eyes that faded from gold back to blue, Gavin flattened his hair back down again and strolled towards the cook-fire with the pot.

"He'll keep you on your toes, Liam, but he'll look after you. He's chosen to take you under his wing, and that's something to respect, so make sure you listen to everything he tells you."

Liam watched as Gavin put the pot over the fire, and one of the other gang members ferried water from the nearby spring to fill it. Everyone here really did act like one big family, with the playful taunts and roughhousing that he'd been used to seeing back home. It was different being out here in the woods, yet at the same time so familiar that all painful thoughts of what he'd lost were pushed aside. It hurt too much to think about them, and he felt so comfortable at Kalem's side that he didn't once even think about his remaining brother, Alan.

It was thus that after their meal of meat and barley stew, that Liam followed them without hesitation. His hand tucked into Kalem's, the young sorcerer leading him southwards with the gang towards a new life and a new home.

~(-)~

The new day dawned warm and clear, summer finally showing full sway as the sun rose golden into the blue sky. The people of Camelot went about their business as normal, their routine unchanged by the presence of the guests in the castle. Last night's banquet had only affected the castle staff, and even now only a few of those servants had any real change to their duties. The only individuals for whom things really changed were those nobles who spent time with the guests, much like the young prince who now stood on the training field beside the young Lord Tarven.

Arthur took aim with his crossbow, his young arms showing a surprising degree of muscle for his nine years of age. The snap of the bowstring heralded his pulling of the trigger, the sound swiftly followed by the thud as the bolt launched by it struck the target close to the centre.

Tarven glanced sidelong at the prince, who put his foot into the crossbow's stirrup and drew the string up and back over the release hook. The prince then loaded a new bolt into the notch along the weapon's top, taking aim and firing again. Tarven frowned before taking aim himself, his own much skinnier arms barely able to hold the weight of his weapon steady.

Tarven was no slouch with a crossbow, he'd shown a degree of talent for it ever since he was first handed one six months ago, but resentment now bubbled inside him as he watched the prince. He couldn't draw the bow on his own, he just wasn't strong enough. Instead he had to hand it to the knight that was stood with him between each shot. And so he stood there after firing, his frown deepening as the knight reset and reloaded the bow and then passed it back to him.

It was too much for the young lord to bear, Tarven scowling along the top of the crossbow as he took aim at the target with grim determination and pulled the trigger.

The bolt slammed into the wooden circle, firmly planted on the edge of the bullseye and well further in from any of the prince's previous shots. In response to the young lord bettering his efforts, Arthur glanced once at him sidelong before reloading his bow. He then moved his feet slightly further apart, and took a few seconds longer while making his aim... and then he fired.

The bolt from the prince's crossbow hit the target dead centre, the wooden shaft vibrating from the impact. He then passed his weapon to the knight stood beside him, his voice impassive as he spoke.

"I think that's enough crossbow practice. I need to work on my swordwork for a while." He turned to Tarven, perfectly polite. "Have you begun sword training, Lord Tarven? If so, would you like to join me?"

Tarven forced himself to stop frowning, instead pasting a polite expression on his face before replying with equal courtesy.

"I have been learning for six months, Sire. It would be a pleasure to spar against you."

Arthur's formal expression changed into a slight smile, the prince honestly looking forward to sparing against someone near his own age. Sure Tarven wasn't yet strong enough to draw the heavy string of a crossbow on his own, but if he were as good with a sword as he was with a crossbow, then this would be fun.

Unfortunately it wasn't to be, as within fifteen seconds of the two of them starting their match with the wooden practice blades, Arthur soundly trounced the younger boy. It was clear Tarven's knowledge of swordwork was still extremely basic, and so he was paired off to spar with a knight who proceeded to go _very_ easy on him. Meanwhile though, Arthur sparred against the other knight whom had been with them. In terms of speed and moves, the nine-year-old prince was already near close his equal. The knight only had to hold back on the force behind his blows as he and Arthur continued their fight.

Tarven could only watch out of the corner of his eye, as instead of the elegant dance of battle he was forced to carry out practice drills. The prince's skill made his efforts look _pathetic_, and also made him look weak. It was something that raised a deep feeling of resentment inside him, one that would forever bar him from becoming friends with Arthur.

What he failed to notice though was the hint of jealousy in Arthur's eyes as he looked at him, the prince trapped by the knowledge that unlike the younger boy he could never allow himself to appear weak. He _had_ to be the best he could be, and that's all there was to it. It was his fate as the Prince of Camelot.

~(-)~

**Alaia Skyhawk: Well there you have it, that's how Liam ends up with the gang he mentioned living with during a conversation with Merlin in "Motives". And also some more stuff with little Arthur, poor lad has things tough and Tarven doesn't even realise it.**


	14. A New Life 'Part 2'

**Alaia Skyhawk: Yes, I know Cenrid is actually spelt Cenred, but as I couldn't be bothered to change it in "A Question of Motives" I'm sticking with the spelling I've used up until now :)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Merlin TV series etc, but I do own the star of this fic... LIAM!**

**Music: "Silent O Moyle" (Celtic folk song) "The Burdens of Duty" (Merlin OST) "I Left Him On The Mountainside" (Celtic folk song)**

~(-)~

Chapter 14: A New Life ~Part 2~

The exhausted fifteen-year-old handed the equally tired horse to the guards at the town gates, shouldering his bag as soon as he'd done so and breaking into a run. He sprinted through the streets, fighting not to stumble after resting so little since yesterday morning, arriving at his family's house to slam the door open near hard enough to loosen the hinges.

"Dad? Liam?"

The solitary person inside the house lifted her head, turning to face him from where she sat at the table. As soon as she saw him, Lillian got to her feet and hurried over to him, throwing her arms around him and sobbing into his shirt.

"Thank goodness you're home!"

Alan pushed her back a little so he could see her face, his expression concerned and worried.

"Where's dad, and Liam?"

Lillian hesitated, her lower lip trembling before she answered.

"Samer, he... He killed himself, Alan, two nights ago after I left him with Liam and went home." She choked back a sob. "I found him the next morning, but the front door was open when I got here... Liam..."

A terrible sense of dread began to form in Alan's gut, his expression reflecting that feeling.

"Where is he?"

Lillian started to cry.

"We don't know. He must have found your father dead at some time during the night, and run out of the house. We don't know where he's gone. The town has been searched from the fields all the way to the manor walls. We sent someone to Tadoras as well, but there was no sign of him. He's nowhere to be found."

Remembering the desolation at Tadoras when he'd passed it by, Alan clenched his fists and spoke through gritted teeth.

"Where's dad now?"

Lillian wiped away her tears, doing her best to compose herself.

"Since your mother, Elias, and Helen were buried in the estate, the lord who's been left in charge reasoned that Lord Hargren would have the same offered for him. He's in the manor's chapel of rest, and a grave has already been prepared. All we've been waiting for is for you get back."

Alan let go of her, dropping his bag beside the door and heading out.

"Then we'll go now. The sooner he's in the ground, the sooner I can concentrate on finding Liam."

He strode off down the street, his fiancée hurrying to follow. There would be no tears from him for his father, only for his mother and siblings. In his anger for what Samer had done, far as he was concerned now the man wasn't _worth _his tears. Not for running away from the pain... Not for leaving Liam to find him like that...

~(-)~

"Those were not mere bandits, Uther, they were trained soldiers garbed to look like them. They stole nothing from either of the villages, instead only slaughtering and burning everyone and everything in their path."

Lord Hargren sat with his friend inside the council chambers of the king's castle, Uther glancing at his fellow noble with a grim expression. He pushed a map of Camelot and the surrounding lands across the table, pointing to the area east of Camelot.

"The kingdom east of here has been taken over, by a barbarian of the name Cenrid. While he has made no open attack on Camelot, I suspect he is behind these 'raiders' you speak of. I will have additional forces sent to reinforce the border. I'm sorry, but it would seem that the lands I entrusted to you have become part of the front line between this city and the new 'King Cenrid'. The Forest and Ridge of Ascetir are a deterrent for a large army to pass directly westwards, but that means to attack this city Cenrid would have to either go south around the ridge, or north through the southern edge of Ulwin's lands."

Hargren frowned, looking at the map deep in thought.

"Then we need to fortify the border within Ulwin's domain, and make it clear no further trespass will be tolerated. The southern route passes close to the Forests of Balor, an inhospitable place indeed, fraught with dangerous beasts. He is not likely to take that route, not new to his throne as he is, with limited forces at his disposal and a restless kingdom. Not unless he is a fool."

Uther leaned back in his chair, sighing as he tapped the fingers of one hand on the surface of the long table.

"He is no fool, my friend. I have been hearing much about him in the past few weeks prior to his seizing the throne, and he is young yet also brutal and ruthless." He grimaced. "But at the same time he caught King Herwen completely off guard, and routed his troops with minimal casualties. He is not to be underestimated, but he will know he is no match for Camelot's walls. King Herwen's castle defences were in great need of updating, and I warned him as much on several occasions. Cenrid will no doubt spend the next few years consolidating his position, before he considers anything more aggressive than these testing 'raids' he's been sending."

Hargren continued to frown; eyeing the map that displayed just how perilously close Ulwin was to the border of what was now Cenrid's kingdom.

"I've already lost a large number of people, Uther. Both Rillen and Tadoras were raised to the ground, with only one small boy surviving the attack on the latter. I lost close to three _hundred_ people to those 'raids', and I cannot stand by and let more of those who look to me for protection be killed by that barbarian." He planted both of his hands on the table, fixing his gaze on the king sat at the head of the table beside him. "I pulled those lands back from the brink of poverty, and changed them into an area of prosperity that brings in much of the trade that comes here this city. I will not stand by and let that be crushed, for if adequate defence is not provided then the craftsmen and merchants in Ulwin will start to leave in _droves_. If it comes to war with Cenrid, you will need that trade to fund your army. With the small force that I have, I cannot protect that section of the border from a concerted attack on my own."

Silence fell between them, lasting for long enough that Hargren began to wonder if he'd overstepped the bounds of his friendship with the king. After those tense moments though it seemed he had not, for Uther nodded in agreement before giving his answer.

"I will assign a squad of my finest knights to Ulwin, placed under your direct command, in addition to two hundred soldiers and the associated cavalry. I will also provide the means to build a fortress near the ruins of Rillen. That way any force attempting the cross the border in that area will be well within patrol distance of either garrison. However I would require that any bastilla or catapults you want be provided by you, and you would also be responsible for maintaining their weapons and armour."

Hargren allowed himself a small sigh of relief, completely agreeable to the arrangement.

"Such is fair, Sire, and eminently reasonable. We will show this 'King Cenrid' that we will not be cowed by his underhanded tactics. You have my word that so long as I preside over Ulwin, I will defend the border near it with _everything _at my disposal."

Uther regarded him solemnly, completely composed and in command of the situation.

"And that is something I have always known, old friend. You are one of my most trusted allies, and for that I can only be grateful, for few are the kings whom have such wise man stand steadfastly beside them."

~(-)~

The young man entered the workshop, walking to the board on one wall where numerous letters for commissions had been pinned to its surface.

Alan began to take them down one-by-one, flipping through them and separating those he knew he had the skill to complete from the single item he knew he could not. He would need more practice before he would accept a commission for such a complicated piece of wooden statuary, had the design been simpler though he might have attempted it and sold it to a trader if it hadn't met the commissioner's standards.

Taking a quick glance around the workshop, he noted which of the commissions his father had already started, before leaving the building and heading back to the house which now belonged to him alone. He stopped by the cloth merchant along the way, asking the man if he would buy the two looms, and that painful errand was still on his mind when he entered through that familiar front door.

Lillian turned to face him, setting aside the broom she'd been using and going over to him. He'd sent her on ahead of him after the brief funeral, asking her to prepare a meal while he began sorting out the mess he'd been left with.

He hugged her, thankful to have her here, before going to the cabinet on one side and retrieving ink, quill, and paper. He then sat at the table, proceeding to write letters to all but the single commissioner whose piece he wouldn't be able to do, offering to each of them to do the work in his late father's stead and at a reduced fee. With any luck, most of them would say yes, and his income would be guaranteed at least for a while. He would send a message to the one he couldn't do after getting replies back from the rest.

Lillian noticed what he was doing, frowning slightly as she brought a bowl of soup over to him.

"Are you sure you want to be doing that now?"

Picking up on her implication that she'd expected him to go out looking for Liam, Alan looked up at her with a frown.

"Everyone in town has searched for Liam, in all the likely places we know he could have gone. I know Lord Hargren will help with that search when he gets back, but at the same time I need to make sure Liam will still have a home to come back to. If I go out there, searching blind for him, we'll lose this house and the workshop. I need to think about making sure our family has a future, and I can't do that if I _abandon _everything we've built up here." He clenched his fist, only just stopping short of crushing his quill. "Dad ran away, like a complete _idiot_, without once thinking about mine and Liam's future. I'm not going to do the same."

Lillian nodded quietly, sitting down opposite him.

"I understand, and you're right. We'll keep the search for Liam going, while you sort out everything to make sure he has a home to come back to."

Alan took a deep breath, a hint of a sob catching in his throat.

"I've sold the looms to the cloth merchant. He's coming for them tomorrow... I'm going to use the money to pay for a professional seeker to search for my brother. There's a far better chance of finding him that way."

Lillian reacted with surprise, before starting to frown.

"Alan, even with the money for the looms, they won't raise enough to pay for a seeker for longer than a month at best. If they can't find Liam before then, how are you going to keep paying for them to keep searching?"

The quill scratched across the piece of paper he was presently writing on, his expression set and determined.

"I'll deal with that if it happens. If I have work my fingers to the bone to pay to keep looking, then I will. I'm _not _going to abandon my brother... Not when he's the only blood relative I have left."

Alan resumed his writing, Lillian realising that right now he needed to be by himself. She moved the soup pot away from the fire, enough so that it would stay warm but wouldn't burn. She then headed home, resolutely deciding that while moving in with Alan was now unacceptable without his father as chaperone, she could still move her candle making gear in and work at the house during the day. Alan would be at the workshop except for meals, and she could always ask her mother to come by at those times if people got proprietary.

She sighed as she walked towards her home, pulling her shawl around her shoulders as if to try shut out the harsh world around her. She would be there for Alan until the day came she could marry him, and then beyond into the future they would share... A future she prayed would also contain the smiles and laughter of Liam, whom it would never be the same without.

~(-)~

The noblewoman sighed as she prepared for bed, giving a passing glance to her presently sullen son who sat on his bed with a scowl on his face.

Jancine shook her head, walking over to him and sitting beside him. He'd been quiet ever since attending weapons practice with Prince Arthur this morning, and although he'd been unfailingly polite to Arthur and to Uther, she'd not failed to notice he frowned whenever he thought no one was looking.

"Tarven, what's the matter? Don't think I haven't noticed you frowning. I'm your mother, it's my job to notice."

The seven-year-old hunched his shoulders, pointedly not looking at her. He stayed silent for several seconds, until he realised she wasn't going to leave him be unless he answered.

"Arthur keeps making me look stupid."

Watching as her son folded his arms and scowled at the floor, Jancine put a hand on his shoulder and tilted her head to better see his face.

"How so? How is it you say he's doing this?"

Her son fidgeted, still sullen.

"When we were using the crossbows, as soon as I got a better shot than him he made sure to beat me. And then he made us change weapons so I couldn't have another try, and made me look _weak_ when we were using the practice swords." Tarven hunched down even further. "He knocked me over, and then made me do practice drills with one of the knights while _he_ got to spar properly... He made it looks so _easy!_"

Tarven kicked out at one of his shoes, which had been placed beside the bed. Watching the errant piece of footwear tumble across the floor, Jancine sighed and put her arm around her son's shoulders.

"My dear son, you don't seem to understand the prince's position." Tarven looked up at her, frowning, and she continued in a reasoning tone. "As King Uther's sole heir, young Prince Arthur is under a great deal of pressure to achieve everyone's' expectations of him. He has to seem as strong as he can possibly be, or the people might fear he will not be up to the task of leading and protecting them when the time comes for him to ascend to the throne. As your father's son, you are under a similar pressure as future Lord of Ulwin, but not to the same degree as Prince Arthur is."

"That still doesn't mean he has to make me look stupid."

Jancine shook her head, emphasising her words with a small hug.

"He does not do it out of any malice, but because he feels he has no choice. As a future vassal of Camelot, you should show your respect to Prince Arthur, and your support, because as prince, Arthur's life does not belong to him... Every duty he does is done for his people, _not _for himself." She ran a hand over her son's hair, ruffling it slightly. "It's something I'm sure he knows, and for that reason it is not you who should be jealous of him, but rather he of you. Because you have far more freedom than he will ever have. Camelot is his life and his purpose, he will know nothing else for all of his life."

Tarven regarded her, surprised by her words. It had never occurred to him that Arthur might envy him, but even understanding that now the initial resentment would always remain. He would give the prince his support and his loyalty, he would be a trusted Lord of Ulwin one day, but he would never be Arthur's friend... He would be an acquaintance and vassal only, there would never be anything more.

He was just too rigid to change his ways, something his parents didn't yet realise. He would be fair and follow the rules on the surface, but always would other feelings linger beneath.

~(-)~

**Alaia Skyhawk: Yeah, Hargren and Jancine don't know it, but Lord Timon has already done irreversible damage to little Tarven's attitude. He's always going to be a stuck up and arrogant ass.**


	15. A New Life 'Part 3'

**Alaia Skyhawk: Whew, man I'm glad I used the search function in my word processor. After it being brought to my attention that Arthur turns 21 during Excalibur, not 18 (as I'd been wondering to myself after thinking "Uhhh, it's been 20 years since Kilgharrah was caught") I went and fixed all the references to Arthur's, Merlin's, and Liam's ages in A Question of Motives... Guess how many there were that required changing.**

**ONE!**

**One reference to age in 274,000 words! It was when Merlin thought: 'It's **_**really **_**annoying to be treated like a small child when you're **_**twenty-two **_**years old.' Originally he though 'nineteen'... and that's IT. Sufficient to say I'm REALLY glad I used it rather than read through the whole thing looking. I honestly never realised up until now that I kept their ages in my head so much. I REALLY thought I'd mentioned them more O.o**

**It does however mean that I have two extra years of timeline to fill in with this, oh joy. Then again, once it's past the part where he learns to read, not a lot happens before the part of the timeline where this story will run in parallel with seasons 1&2. I now have this story's main events plotted out all the way to the end, and it's going to be a mammoth 87 chapters long when it's done... I think I need to get writing XD**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Merlin TV series etc, but I do own the star of this fic... LIAM!**

**Music: "The Burdens of Duty" (Merlin OST) "Llanthony Valley" (Celtic folk song)**

~(-)~

Chapter 15: A New Life ~Part 3~

The various messages rustled as the young man read through them, all but a few of them bearing good news for his immediate future.

Alan sighed, setting aside the three letters of refusal. Those had come from what he knew to be some of the most stuck-up nobles in Lord Hargren's court, and he wasn't really surprised they'd turned down his offer to fill their commissions. He had enough with the dozen or so that remained to keep him working for quite a while, and with any luck he'd build himself a reputation as a craftsman in the process.

It was a start, and a much better one that the vast majority of other carpenters his age could hope for. He was also lucky that the two nobles whose commissions had been started by his father had accepted, otherwise he'd have been faced with the expense of finishing those pieces and hoping he'd find someone he could sell them to. He now just had to hope that the saying 'three times lucky' would hold true, and his first errand of this morning would bring the greatest reward possible for him.

The return of his brother...

Alan got up from the table, heading to the hiding place that until two days ago had been beneath his mother's loom. Both looms were gone now, and the house seemed strange without them, but Lillian would be moving her candle gear in today so the corner would soon have a homely clutter in it again.

He lifted out the pouch of coins he'd gotten from the cloth merchant, tucking them inside his shirt before pocketing the wedge of letters and the note that had also arrived from the owner of Ulwin's tavern and inn. He then left the house with a slight frown creasing his features, heading straight for the tavern without hesitation.

He'd missed the seeker who had left the day after Tadoras was attacked, and had asked the owner to let him know when another arrived... and one had, late last night.

Alan arrived at the tavern, entering the premises and going straight to the bar. He stood there, waiting until the owner noticed him, before pulling out the note and waving it a little to indicate why he was here.

The middle-aged man came over, leaning on the counter before pointing out a particular patron with a jerk of his chin.

"That's him, and he's well known in this area. He's one of the best in these parts if you can afford his prices."

Alan nodded in gratitude for the tip off, pocketing the note.

"Thanks, Brandon, I appreciate it." He walked across the common room, casually seating himself at the same table as the seeker although not directly opposite. He then pulled one silver coin from his pouch and pushed it diagonally across the table to him. "The owner says you're a seeker, and a good one... I have a job for you, if you're interested."

The seeker picked up the coin, rolling it over in his fingers for a moment before answering.

"...Depends on what the job is."

Taking that as his cue, Alan moved to sit opposite and folded his arms on the table, his tone serious as he explained.

"I need you to find my missing brother, Liam Morranson. He's seven years old, has blond hair, green eyes, and a strong resemblance to me. He's been missing since a couple of days after the attack on Tadoras."

The seeker was now staring at him, clearly thinking the fifteen-year-old was insane.

"You want me to go look for a _kid?_" He started to get up. "I have better things to do than listen to this stupidity."

Alan tipped his pouch out onto the table, a shower of silver coins clattering onto the wooden surface. When the seeker stopped still, he idly pulled them into a pile while speaking.

"I'm willing to pay your price, and it's not like I'm asking you to go look for someone who's liable to want to gut you or hack your head off. My mother, brother, and sister were killed at Tadoras, and my father killed himself a few days ago because he was too much of a coward to live with the pain of losing them... Liam went missing the night my dad hung himself, and everything points to him having seen him and run from the house. No body has been found in the searches so far, so I'm starting to think someone has picked him up. If he's been picked up, then he's alive, and I want him back here in Ulwin." He pushed the pile of money across the table, glaring at the man opposite him. "Now will you accept the job or not?"

The seeker sat down again, eyeing Alan for several seconds before counting out a little over half of the coins into three stacks and pushing the rest back. He then pointed to what he'd kept.

"This is what I cost to search for one month. If I don't find anything in that time, I'll come back and see if you want to pay me to keep looking. Deal?"

Alan put the remaining coins back into the pouch, nodding even as his tone became warning.

"It's a deal... But don't even think about scamming me. My family has strong ties to Lord Hargren and Lady Jancine. If you don't uphold your end of the deal then you may find you're not so welcome in Camelot anymore."

The man pocketed the three stacks of coins, unfazed by the threat.

"I did not get my reputation by being underhanded with my employers. You have my word that for as long as you hire me I will do all in my ability to locate and return your brother to you." He got up and walked away, picking up his bag from under the table as he did so. "Now if you will excuse me, I need to get supplies before I leave to begin the search."

Alan watched as the seeker went to the counter and paid Brandon for his stay, getting up once the other man was out the door. This was it, the _serious_ search for Liam had begun, and now all he needed to worry about was making sure he earned enough in the meantime to cover any future hire of the seeker, as well as his rent and food.

It would be tough, but it would be worth it to get Liam back.

~(-)~

Wide green eyes gazed up at the sight before them, ruined stone towers presiding over the crumbling battlements of the long abandoned castle.

Liam followed Kalem closely, holding onto the older boy's shirt as Gavin led the way through the rusted portcullis. The castle wasn't big, clearly having been built as an outpost rather than the home of someone important, but it was more than ample for the gang's needs and kept the rain off their heads. It also had the boon of being inside the northern edge of the Forest of Ascetir, a boon whose reason was revealed almost as soon as they arrived in the fort's main hall.

The cloaked figure turned their head to look at the arrivals, Kalem breaking into a smile and hurrying over to him. Liam, by nature of refusing to let go of his shirt, was towed along with him as he greeted the druid man.

"Nellan! Here to trade medicine again?"

Nellan smiled in return, picking up a bag that had lain on the floor beside him.

"Why else do I come? I knew you were all due back around now, so I came to see if you had anything of interest to barter in exchange."

Gavin came over, holding out the bag he'd carried even since before they'd found Liam at Tadoras.

"Be grateful, we went into King Herwen's lands to get these... except they're not his lands anymore. He's dead, killed by some man called Cenrid." He grimaced. "All hell broke loose when word got to the town we were in. We were lucky his little group of 'bandits' didn't catch us. We followed the bastards as best we could on foot, but they were on horses and wrecked Rillen and Tadoras before we could get a warning out. Little Liam here is a survivor from Tadoras. He's staying with us now."

Nellan accepted the offered bag, opening it and checking the contents before passing over the bag of medicine in return. He then got to his feet, his expression sympathetic.

"I am deeply sorry to hear of such tragedies, would it be that they could have been avoided. I have heard of this 'Cenrid' you spoke of, and he is a ruthless man. I am grateful for the warning that he is now king of those lands, my people living there will need to be doubly careful." He headed for the door, giving a nod to Kalem as he went. "Until next time, Gavin. And Kalem, make sure you keep practicing those spells."

The young sorcerer grinned at that remark, calling out after the druid before he disappeared out of the hall.

"Yeah, well I may only be able to do two of them so far, but you can bet I'll have another one learnt before you come back!" The members of the gang began to settle around the edges of the hall, where piles of blankets and furs made up a motley selection of beds. It was then that Kalem led Liam to the corner near the hearth, that was by unspoken rule _his_. "You can share with me for now. We'll see about cooking some food in a while."

Liam allowed himself to be led, sitting down on the pile of furs before speaking quietly.

"What did Gavin give to Nellan?"

Kalem sat down facing him, a knowing smile on his face as he explained.

"The Druids who live in this forest can find it hard to get certain herbs and things for their spells and medicines. We buy them from towns in what _was_ Herwen's kingdom, and trade them for medicines from them. It's hard to find physicians that can match the skills of the Druids when it comes to remedies, and they're usually far too expensive for the likes of you and me. This way our gang gets what we need at prices we can afford, and the Druids get what _they _need in exchange for giving us remedies. It's a fair trade all round."

"Oh, ok..." Liam calmly accepted the explanation, frowning a little as he recalled something else that had been said. "You only know two spells?"

Kalem winced, before grinning sheepishly.

"Well if you count my affinity I can do three things. I can do a lot of different things with wind, but the only two incantations I can use are 'forbearne' and 'fleoge'. The first one, as you know, lets me set fire to things and I can throw fire with it too. The other one lets me throw objects without touching them." He turned where he sat, leaning over to pull something from a box beside the 'bed'. It was a bundle of parchment sheets, and he held them with the utmost care as he showed them to Liam. "Nellan gave me these. Each page has a different spell incantation on it and explanations of what you can do with it. He's the one who said I could be a High Priest one day, and he wrote them out for me to study since I don't want to leave the gang yet. He only wrote down five spells, but so far I haven't had much luck with the last three. Gescildan, tospringe, and thurhaale; those are a magical shield, opening locks, and healing general wounds or sickness."

"Wow."

Hearing Liam's reaction, Gavin looked over from where he was starting a fire in the hearth and smiled.

"We could really be doing with the last two in our line of work, but I guess we'll just have to wait until he finally gets the hang of them."

Kalem frowned indignantly, folding his arms across his chest.

"Well it's not like I'm not trying. Magic, any magic, takes serious study and _lots_ of practice... Even if you _do_ have a talent for it." He rolled his eyes, turning his attention back to Liam. "Anyways, those are the five spells I've been told by Nellan. He's promised me he'll tell me some more once I have those ones learnt. As for you, from tomorrow I'm going to start teaching you some things so you can do your share as part of the gang."

Liam reacted in surprise, curious as to what he was going to be taught by his new 'brother'.

"What?"

Kalem grinned, getting up and rummaging around until he found a coat among his things that had more than the usual number of openings for depositing items.

"I'm going to start teaching you to pick pockets."

~(-)~

The large force of soldiers and knights that rode through Ulwin brought a feeling of tension and unease to the town, the Lord that led them towards the manor not bothering to announce why they had come.

Lord Hargren's expression was stern, his wife and son subdued as they rode behind him. The majority of the warriors they'd brought from Camelot would head south in a couple of days, once the craftsmen from Ulwin and Camelot had been drafted to assist in building the new fort near the ruins of Rillen. For the sake of speed it was only going to be partially made of stone for now, the inner buildings constructed of wood until time could be spared to replace them. Only the outer walls would be solid, to provide a defensive barrier as well as a platform for archers and siege weaponry. He could worry about the rest later.

In silence he rode the remainder of the way to the manor, entering and directing the staff that greeted him to have temporary tents sent up for those warriors he didn't have space to house inside the manor itself. It was as well they would be leaving again soon, for it would be far from comfortable camping in the estate's grounds.

Orders given, and Jancine and Tarven having gone inside, he then stood there trying to centre himself until the lord he'd left in charge here approached him with an uncertain expression.

"My Lord, something happened while you were away that you need to be informed of."

Hargren turned to face him, still holding the reins of his horse.

"What is it?"

The question was blunt, he was in no mood for pleasantries, and the noble hesitated before answering.

"It is about the husband of the weaver who was buried in the gardens... I regret to inform you, My Lord, that he hung himself the day after you departed for Camelot."

"_What?_"

Hargren's composure was gone, vanished into shock, his expression demanding an explanation. The noble who stood before him gave him those answers, stammering a little under the intensity of his lord's stare.

"I... I offered to his eldest son to have him buried beside his wife and the two children, and the young man accepted... B-but there is another matter as well, sir. Young Liam was discovered missing the same morning the carpenter, Samer, was found dead."

Hargren said nothing more, instead turning and practically leaping into the saddle of his horse. He sent it charging out into the town beyond the manor gate, heading first for the workshop belonging to the family. Alan was a practical young man, and he knew the youth would have put a great deal of importance into making sure he'd be able to pay the rent for the house and that building. The lord could hear the sounds of hammering when he arrived outside it, tying his horse to one of the metal rings on the front wall and striding inside.

Alan paused in his work when he saw the lord enter, his expression solemn as he set down his tools.

"I'm guessing you've heard the news... about my dad, and about Liam." He walked over, sighing and shaking his head. "Dad just gave up and ran away from the pain, and left me with nothing but chaos... Liam must have found him, during that night, and after finding our father dead he ran out of the house. Right now I can only assume he was picked up by someone, since we haven't found a body anywhere in Ulwin or near Tadoras."

Hargren frowned, his eyes also holding regret that he hadn't been here.

"Will you be going out to look for him?"

Alan shook his head, tilting his chin to indicate the board on the far wall that was covered in commission letters.

"I've hired a seeker to look for him, and managed to get most of the nobles to accept me doing the commissions they'd asked my dad to do. I'm going to have to work _hard_ to keep paying for the search, but I'm not going to give up on my brother... I'm not going to _abandon_ him like my coward of a father did to us."

He gritted his teeth, fighting to stop his traitorous lip from trembling and tears from escaping his eyes. Hargren reached out and put a hand on the fifteen-year-old's shoulder, shaking his head ever so slightly.

"Samer would never have done what he did if he didn't know you could take care of yourself. A young woman, Lillian, had been coming by since Alina's death, and he probably thought Liam would sleep until she arrived that morning. He must have though she would look after him until you got back, and that the two of you would start a new life together."

Alan choked back a sob, angrily wiping the tears from his face.

"Then he could have _waited _until I got back, so I could have beat some sense into him! Didn't he even _think_ how much it would hurt us?"

"I know how much he loved Alina, that she meant more to him than words could ever say." Hargren regarded Alan, solemn. "Losing her would have been like losing half of himself. He loved her so much that he just couldn't bear to carry on without her... Knowing you were old enough to stand on your own two feet, and look after Liam, was probably the final thing that caused him to do what he did. He cared for you all deeply, but at the same time he also wanted to be with the woman he'd loved since he was your age. He wanted to be with your mother."

Hargren's words were more than Alan could take, finally shattering the wall of anger that had stopped him grieving for his father. He stood there, fighting back the tears as he finally accepted his father's decision. Hating him wouldn't change anything, and it wouldn't help him find Liam.

Finally composing himself after a minute or so, Alan took a deep breath and turned to the lord beside him.

"Thank you for your concern, but I'll be fine. I should get back to work, or I won't be able to afford to keep hiring the seeker."

He started towards the piece he'd been working on, but was stopped when Hargren spoke.

"Then _I_ will pay for their services." Alan turned to face him, surprised, while Hargren continued. "I owe your father and mother a great deal, and I will not dishonour their memory or tarnish their efforts by leaving you to face this alone. For as long as it takes to find him, for as long as you wish to keep looking, I will pay for the search." He glanced at the board, and the mass of commission requests. "And if you succeed in completing all of those before the turn of the new year, I will consider it proof you are skilled enough to keep this workshop. You have your father's talent, so I'm sure you can manage it."

Alan's expression became determined, and he nodded firmly.

"Then I will do it, My Lord. I will become a carpenter that my father would be proud of."

Hargren smiled slightly, turning to head for the door.

"I think he already is..."

Little did either of them know that the seeker looking for Alan was now well away from Ulwin, following the assumption that Liam had been picked up. The child couldn't have passed through Camelot or his brother would have seen him. With that in mind, along with the recent attacks, he took the only path that was logical.

He'd gone northwards toward the lands belonging to Mercia... and in the opposite direction to that which the gang had taken Liam.

~(-)~

**Alaia Skyhawk: So Alan has forgiven Samer, and Liam is settling in at his new home, and unfortunately for them both, Cenrid's raids have sent the seeker in the totally wrong direction :S**


	16. Young Thief, New Ward 'Part 1'

**Alaia Skyhawk: The first time skip here, of about a year and a half. There'll be a couple more jumps further on, but this is the first.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Merlin TV series etc, but I do own the star of this fic... LIAM!**

**Music: "Boning the Turkeys" Folk song (Used for all of Liam's scenes), "Merlin Lost" Merlin OST (For the other scenes)**

~(-)~

Chapter 16: Young Thief, New Ward ~Part 1~

Only if you were paying attention would you have noticed it, a head of straggly and not exactly clean blond hair slipping through the crowd that packed the market in the heart of Ulwin. The owner kept his face lowered, letting stray tresses of that hair obscure his green eyes. He was as anonymous and fleeting as a ghost, there for a moment but gone before you could take a second look. That was the way he wanted it... He didn't want to be recognised as the once naive child who had fled into the unknown a year and a half ago.

Liam eyed the mixed gathering of people packing the area of the market, mindful of the gang's rule against stealing from the locals except under certain circumstances. It wasn't exactly hard, Ulwin always had a sizable population of transient merchants and traders, not to mention the smugglers and less savoury characters which were a given in any hub of trade. So long as he remained quiet, unobtrusive, it was almost pathetically easy to slip hands into unwatched pockets or cut purses from belts with the razor sharp little blades he kept up his sleeves. Those had been a present from Gavin, the day he'd 'graduated' and was finally allowed to work solo on a regular basis.

The nine-year-old smiled to himself at that, remembering how Gavin had handed them over with an expression of chagrin that day. After starting to teach him, Kalem had bet Gavin that Liam would be their best pickpocket before year's end. Most of the gang's fifteen other members had laughed at that, which given one certain fact had meant they'd just about guaranteed that Kalem would win that bet.

There was _no _way Liam was going to let his 'big brother' lose... That first autumn with the gang, when they'd sent him on a picking run against their present best pickpocket, Jarl, he'd come back with almost twice the coin. A second run, after the defeated Jarl had demanded a rematch, had yielded the same result. The sixteen-year-old, with his tall build, just couldn't compete with the small, fleet footed, and hard-to-track Liam.

As if to prove that point, to himself if no one else, Liam spotted one of the few locals he could steal from as he wished. The guy was a known conman, but never actually didn't anything which broke any law. Those in the town who were wise to his scams despised him, which was why none of them reacted with more than a glance when all of a sudden he loudly and vocally discovered he was missing his purse.

Liam chuckled to himself as he ducked into a gap between a wall and a pile of grates, removing the well-loaded pouch from inside his sleeve. A quick crouch and he lifted one leg of his loose breeches, to reveal that concealed above his battered shoes he had collection of straps secured to his lower leg. Fast fingers formed a loop between one of the leather chords and his skin, into which he slipped the pouch before pulling it tight until it was secure and wouldn't rattle.

Moments later he was flitting through the crowd again, head down and anonymous once again.

He worked the market for another hour, glancing up at the sky now and then to keep track of the time. When noon approached though he headed off with haste, only stopping to grab a couple of apples from a stall and toss a stolen copper to the owner. But it wasn't gang business that he heading to, this was something personal.

Reaching his target destination, Liam placed himself deep into the shadows between two houses, looking across the narrow street beyond to the house and door where a young woman was waiting. She stood there, face turned to look along the street, her expression becoming a smile as the blond-haired young man she waited for finally came down it with a matching smile on his face.

Liam bit his lip, indecisive as he always was whenever he did this. Every time he'd been in Ulwin since that horrible night he'd run away, he'd come to this shadowed spot and watched his brother come back from the workshop for midday to be greeted by Lillian. The two of them were married now, living in the house that both Alan and Liam had grown up in. Liam wanted to go up to that door, to knock on it and see his brother's smile directed at _him_, but he could never pluck up the nerve to do it.

Liam frowned. Alan looked happy with Lillian, and he didn't want to intrude... Besides, in all likelihood his brother believed he was dead. After all, how long would a seven-year old kid really last alone in the wilds with no supplies and no means of defence. The answer was, not long at all. He'd just been lucky the gang had been there, or chances were he'd have wandered around until some bandit killed him or some monster in the woods ate him.

Those thoughts in his mind, Liam turned and walked away once the door of the house thudded shut. He'd watch from a distance, reassure himself his brother was doing all right, but he just didn't feel ready to reappear in Alan's life. Maybe one day he would, but for now the gang would remain his home.

He shook his head, turning his attention back to his main reason for being in Ulwin. Plundered coins in his pockets and stolen purses tied to his legs, he set off through the town to wait at the meeting point for Kalem and the other two gang members who were 'working' Ulwin.

~(-)~

Pale blue eyes peered through the small gap between door and frame, stray strands of long, dark hair brushed aside by slender fingers as the girl waited hopefully.

Her father was due home, and he'd promised he'd be back as soon as the threat he was going to deal with was gone. He'd sent messages once a week, telling of the small victories and advances his force had made, but last week the usual message hadn't come. The one before that he'd said it should soon be over, so no one in the household she was in worried. Her father had other things to deal with instead of sending a message, and she understood that, but maybe now she'd be able to pack her things and go back to the house she'd grown up in.

She watched the knight who waited patiently in the entranceway, the maid who'd let him in having gone to get Lady Galeia, the noblewoman who was looking after her. She wanted nothing more than to go out and ask him what the message was, but that would have been rude and certainly not ladylike... Her father always said she should act like a young lady, because at ten years old she would soon be one.

There was rush of footsteps, the brush of fine leather slippers on stone floor, Lady Galeia hurrying to speak with the knight. He kept his voice low as he spoke, his expression grave, his words too quiet for the girl to hear from her hiding place. She began to wonder why he looked so serious, but that curiosity turned to apprehension when Lady Galeia gasped in horror.

She'd brought a hand to her mouth in shock, her eyes wide, as the knight's terrible news sunk in. She then turned unerringly to face where the girl peered through the slightly open door, being all too familiar with her charge's ways.

She reached a hand out towards her, gesturing for her to come out.

"Morgana, come here."

The little girl did as she was told, opening the door fully and walking over as the picture of a young noble lady. Her chin was held up, her shoulders back, as she then stood with hands clasped neatly in front of her.

"What is it, Lady Galeia?" She then looked at the knight. "Is my father coming home?"

The knight and the lady glanced at each other, before the latter crouched down so she was at the eye level of the child beside her.

"Morgana... He's not coming home, dear. The battle... he died, Morgana. Sir Gregory is here with some of his fellow knights. They're here to take to Camelot, where you'll now be King Uther's ward."

The ten-year-old stared at her, blue eyes widening as she began to back up slowly. Morgana then began shaking her head, denial written in every part of her expression.

"No... No no no... _No!_"

She tried to turn and run, to escape from this nightmare she didn't want to believe. Lady Galeia grabbed her, the previously well-mannered child now shrieking and screaming as she struggled to get free.

Sir Gregory hurried forward, pulling a small vial from a pouch on his belt. He took hold of Morgana's chin while Galeia restrained her, tipping the contents into her mouth and holding the girl's nose so she'd be forced to swallow it. Swallow it she did, her screams and flailing slowly subsiding as the drug from the bottle took effect. He then picked her up, standing straight and facing the girl's distraught former guardian.

"The Court Physician suspected there might be some hysterics, so he provided some medicine to keep her calm. Now, if you would quickly pack her things, it is best if I and the escort get her Camelot as soon as we can."

Lady Galeia hurried to do so, summoning one of the maids and disappearing deeper into the house. Meanwhile Sir Gregory carried the now limp and barely awake Morgana outside. He put her into the small carriage the king had sent with the escort, lying her down on one of the seats and waiting until Galeia and the maid came out with the bags some ten minutes later. Those were quickly loaded onto the back of the carriage, before its driver sent it out of the small estate and onwards towards Camelot with the knights riding alongside.

~(-)~

Three figures came laughing into the small dead-end alley, Kalem ducking the half-hearted punch directed at him by the now seventeen-year-old Jarl. The former 'best pickpocket' had gotten over his loss eventually, but he still tended to tease both Kalem and Liam saying that it just meant that he'd soon be moving onto bigger things.

It was the gang's routine every autumn. Leave the youngest members in Ulwin, to take advantage of the last minute rush in trade before winter set in, while the rest of the gang went into what were now King Cenrid's lands where they didn't have to be so picky about not stealing from soldiers anymore. They'd left Hewen's men alone because he'd been Camelot's ally, and you don't pick fights with the friends of the man who rules your home turf. Cenrid's men, though, they were fair game, and Gavin wasn't about to let the new opportunities for income pass him by.

And so Kalem, Jarl, Liam, and another recent recruit, a thirteen-year-old girl called Katia, had been left here to pick the pockets of inattentive merchants and distracted thugs. That's not to say the job was boring, to be frank they considered it fun. Two to three weeks left to their own devices, to work as much as they wished to and at whatever hours they wanted to. So long as they got enough coins to fill their 'quota' of the earnings the gang needed to last them until spring, they could do whatever they wanted with the rest of their time.

Liam raised his eyebrows a little in amusement. Waiting for Kalem to sit himself against the opposite wall of the narrow alley, before eyeing Jarl with a small smirk.

"So, how much did ya bring back this run?"

Jarl started to grin, looking satisfied as he pulled his breeches up to his knees to reveal he had five purses tied to his legs, before letting go of them and pulling two handfuls of coins from his jacket pockets. By a rough guess, he'd probably gotten somewhere in the region of thirty coppers and five or six silvers. Quite good for a morning run when they'd already been here a week.

He put the coins back into his pockets, still smiling.

"So, short stuff, what did _you_ get?"

Liam's smile turned into a smirk, as he hoisted his breeches to reveal _eight_ purses strapped to his legs. He then emptied his jacket pockets, revealing that while he had a similar number of loose coins to what Jarl had, far more of his were silvers.

"You really need to pick your target's better. There's not much point sticking your hands into pockets for pennies."

Jarl just rolled his eyes and accepted defeat yet again, sliding down against the wall to sit on the floor. Meanwhile Kalem had been watching the both of them, chuckling before he nudged Liam with his foot.

"We know you're good at picking pockets... Time to see how good you've gotten at picking locks."

All three other youths turned heads to stare at the fourteen-year-old sorcerer, Katia voicing the question they were all thinking.

"You found someone worth a break in?"

He nodded, breaking into a wide grin.

"A smuggler called Voren just made a big deal with some other guy this morning, and sold off a load of his stock. The coin is all in his warehouse on the east side of town, and since he and that guy are the only 'big timers' here in Ulwin right now he hasn't bothered to guard it. All he did was lock the doors." He rubbed his hands together. "He's already in the tavern, toasting the deal with that other guy. By tonight he'll be so drunk he wouldn't know his own mother if she walked up to him and punched him."

Liam was now interested. During the eighteen months or so he'd been with the gang, this would be his first break in. After all, gang rules were gang rules, and the only times they entered a building without permission was to steal something from people who were also thieves or criminals.

"So how much did he have? Were you able to find out."

"Nah." Kalem shook his head. "He didn't count it, and neither of them said out loud how much it was. All I saw was that there was a fair few golds mixed in with the silvers in that box, and that it was almost completely full. I'd say there was enough in it to keep us eating until spring, even without what the boss and others get from their trip, and the guy won't be able to report it because he's dodging the law as it is."

Jarl frowned.

"But what if he finds out it was us? He'll be after our heads."

Kalem grinned.

"That's the thing, anyone who's anyone in the black market knows that Gavin is in Cenrid's lands right now. Are they really going to think that four _kids_ he left behind, to pickpocket in Camelot's territory, are responsible for a heist like this? I don't think so. He's going to peg it on his buddy, hands down. All we have to do is play it smart, make sure we don't leave behind any evidence, and don't leave town after we do it. If we're still here picking pockets tomorrow, there's no way he'll suspect."

They all looked at each other, grinning and nodding in agreement. It was time to do something to impress their boss, and so they headed off to stash the morning's takings and then hide near the warehouse to wait for darkness to fall.

~(-)~

The small house was quiet, the air of grief still hung over the occupants as the young girl served up the supper of soup to her father and brother. The letter had come that morning, from the home of the noble family her mother worked for... A letter containing news none of the had wanted to hear.

Her mother had died of sudden illness, and nothing had been able to be done.

Gwen bit her lip, trying not to sob as she remembered the look on the face of the young knight who had brought the message. Until circumstances had meant she couldn't live with her mother at the manor, and instead had to move back to Camelot to her father, Leon had been like an older brother to her. He was 'Sir' Leon now, seventeen years old and the youngest of the men with that title, and even then it had taken some negotiating for him to be allowed to try for it before turning eighteen.

He'd handed that letter over with a hint of tears in his eyes, but he hadn't allowed himself to shed them. That they'd been there though was enough to show he still cared, still respected the woman who had almost been an aunt to him despite the fact she'd just been a maid.

Ladling her share of the soup into her bowl, Gwen sat down and started to eat. Things were going to be hard without her mother, that was something she knew well, but they would just have to carry on and keep living.

That was what her mother would want them to do.

~(-)~

**Alaia Skyhawk: Yes, Leon is a knight already at this point. He doesn't look young enough in the show to be around the same ages as Arthur, so I made him six years older than him, which is reasonable :)**


	17. Young Thief, New Ward 'Part 2'

**Alaia Skyhawk: Here's the next bit, and passed 100 REVIEWS! YAY! :D**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Merlin TV series etc, but I do own the star of this fic... LIAM!**

**Music: "Boning the Turkeys" Folk song (Used for all of Liam's scenes), "Merlin Lost" Merlin OST (For the other scenes)**

~(-)~

Chapter 17: Young Thief, New Ward ~Part 2~

The dark-haired head of the young sorcerer poked out past the end of the alley, close to the wall and deep in the shadows where the colour actually helped him to hide.

Kalem smirked when he saw the street beyond was empty, he and his three cohorts having waited crammed behind a stack of foul-smelling barrels for most of the day. It was a small price to pay though, the four of them taking turns to go out when there had been enough people in the street to obscure them. From an afternoon spent doing that, they now knew every entrance and exit to the warehouse in question, the best escape routes if they had to make a run for it, as well as which door would be the best one for their purposes.

It was just a pity the best door was also the one with three locks on it, although at least it meant he'd still be able to test Liam's lockpicking skills. The big double doors on the end of the moderate-sized building were barred from the inside, as were the three small windows. The side door really was the only way in that didn't actually require magic to gain access.

He shrugged, listening as the voice of the night watchman on the distant manor wall, echoed across the town calling the midnight hour. His duty was now done for the day, and there would be no more calls until the first hour after dawn... Unlike Uther, Lord Hargren didn't see the point in having someone shout out each hour during the night... All it did was wake up any light sleepers who lived close to the tower the call was made from. As it was, it was now the dead of night, the time of thieves, and the patrols would be changing patterns to reflect that. They now had about half-an-hour before the first patrol passed through this part of town.

"On your feet, guys, it's time to move."

His whisper brought Liam, Jarl, and Katia to attention, the three of them moving into position behind him and following him when he darted across the street to the alley beside the warehouse. That was where the side door was, set on thick iron hinges on one side with no less than three locks securing the flanges on the other to the metal loops bolted to the wall. Voren clearly didn't want to take chances, even if he hadn't hired someone to guard the place tonight. Such a shame the locks weren't going to do the slightest bit of good.

Stopping beside the door, Kalem signalled to Liam with a nod that he should get to work, the younger boy pulling a thin roll of leather out of the back of his belt. Unfurling it revealed a long row of metal rods and hooks secured neatly into slots on the inside, from which Liam selected two after inspecting the first lock and got to work.

He frowned in concentration, moving and angling the rods several times as he prodded about inside the lock's case. After a minute or so he realised one of the picks he'd selected wasn't really the best for this particular lock, and after swapping it for another he finally got it to pop open.

"One done."

He unhooked it from the metal loop and passed it to Jarl, setting to work on the next one but having a similar degree of trouble. After struggling with it for almost three minutes, Kalem put a hand on his shoulder and murmured quietly.

"Nice job with the first one, but this is taking a bit too long. I'll do the rest."

Liam sighed, putting his picks away and backing up to give Kalem space. But the sorcerer didn't bother with lockpicks, in fact he rarely carried any these days, not since he'd mastered the spell he was about to use.

He pointed at both remaining locks, grinning as he whispered the incantation.

"_Tospringe._" Two clicks heralded the locks opening, the fourteen-year-old passing them to Jarl who then dropped them on the floor inside the warehouse where they wouldn't draw attention from outside. They then pushed the door closed for the same reason, Kalem's murmur sending them searching. "Spread out, and mind where you step. The box we're looking for is about as long as my forearm and half as high, and has iron bandings on it."

They did as instructed, moving through the near pitch darkness within the warehouse using outstretched hands and careful checking with feet to navigate around the crates that half-filled it. The moonlight that did penetrate here and there did not illuminate the floor, but it did cast enough of a glow for them to find the box Kalem had described.

Once they had it, a whispered spell unlocked it so he could check the contents, and confirming it was full of coins he snapped the lid closed and signalled them to follow him. They closed the warehouse door behind them, but didn't bother replacing the locks. They _wanted_ Voren to find out the box was missing, because tomorrow they were going to be working the market as usual. They knew he knew them by face as members of Gavin's gang, and so they would let him see them pursuing the coppers in people's pockets as though they'd never had any encounter at all with the cash-laden box.

They hurried out of the town, following the line of a ditch and the hedge beside it to reach the thin belt of woods to the west of the town near the river. There, behind a circle of rocks, they lit a small fire for light before Kalem reopened the box and showed them just how much they'd stolen from the smuggler.

Jarl, Liam, and Katia all gaped, the foremost of them reaching out and taking up a handful of coins which as stated earlier in the day was entirely made up of silvers and a few coins that were gold.

"You weren't kidding... Gavin is going to _freak _when he sees us with all this."

Kalem grinned.

"Freak in a good way, though. I think there might be more in here than I though there was. I can see this haul lasting the gang way longer than until spring."

Liam snorted, shaking his head.

"Not likely. Everyone in the gang needs new shoes, clothing. One of our cooking pots is so thin on the bottom now that it's just a matter of time before its dripping our food into the cook fire, not to mention some of our knives and weapons have been sharpened so many times they're narrow enough to start looking like toothpicks."

Katia sighed, picking up a few of the coins herself.

"So a load of this is going to be spent on stuff other than food. Gavin is still going to be pleased though."

"Aye, he will... He doesn't think much of Voren either. That man's as nasty as they come." He indicated Jarl and Katia put their handfuls back into the box, adding the purses from everyone's legs before closing it again once they were inside. "Jarl, take this to our cache near the ford, and bury it with the rest of our takings. We'll pick them up when it's safe to leave town. There's no point in us keeping picking when we've more than met our quota, so we'll go as soon as Voren has left."

Jarl nodded and accepted the box, darting off into the darkness and disappearing from sight. The rest of them returned to town, to the currently disused shed they were using as their shelter. Now would just be a waiting game, to let the smuggler find someone else of his ilk to blame for the theft than the four 'kids' from Gavin's gang.

~(-)~

Few were the people walking about in the pale light of the dawn; few who saw the carriage and its escort of knights arrive in the city. They'd ridden hard to get here so quickly, going as fast as it was safe to considering the carriage. The young girl inside it had remained quiet for most of the trip, except for the time during the night when the first dose of medicine had started to wear off.

They'd had to stop to deal with her, Sir Gregory giving her the contents of the second vial he'd been given by the Court Physician. Personally he disliked having to use this method, but he could not deny that without it then getting her to Camelot would have been a nightmare.

He sent one of his men on ahead, to alert the castle to the young Lady Morgana's imminent arrival. Once she was safe into the hands of the castle staff, he ,his men, and their horses would be able to rest after literally spending almost a day and a half on the road stopping only for as long as they had to. It was thus that he rode into the castle courtyard with a sense of relief, knowing that his duty was done and that it had been completed with no complications.

Dismounting from his horse as the carriage came to a stop, he and the knights immediately bowed their heads when they saw the king hurrying down the steps from the main entrance. King Uther looked anxious, or at least as anxious as he would _allow_ himself to look in public, and anticipating what he would request, Sir Gregory went to the carriage and lifted out the child within.

Uther took the sleeping Morgana from him with the utmost care, regarding the knight for a moment before speaking.

"You had to use the medicine that Gaius gave you?"

Sir Gregory nodded.

"Yes, Sire. When we delivered the news about her father, she became hysterical. There was no choice but to use it, to prevent her harming herself during the journey."

The king looked down almost sadly at the girl in his arms, nodding once to the knight before turning towards the steps.

"You have done well. See to it that you and the rest of the escort get some rest. You can resume your normal duties tomorrow."

Uther carried Morgana into the castle, ordering the first servant he saw to go fetch the Court Physician. It did not take him long to get her to the chambers he'd had prepared, the king carefully ascending the short but narrow set of steps to the short dead-end passage where the chambers lay.

He entered, going to and gently placing her on the mattress of the beautiful four-poster bed that dominated one of the two interconnected rooms. She would lack for nothing here, living in a degree of luxury that even most nobles could not afford. All that was left to be seen was if or not she would settle quickly, or require some time to get used to life here.

He was just bringing the bedcovers up to her chin when someone new came into the room, the elderly man in his long over robe approaching the bed with a bag of medicines in hand.

"Is she sleeping, Sire?"

Uther turned to face the newcomer, glad to see him.

"Ah, Gaius... Yes, she's sleeping. The escort were forced to use both doses of the medicine you gave to them" He watched as Gaius leaned over the girlto check her temperature and heart rate. "How long before she will wake?"

The physician glanced at him, unable to be specific.

"It would depend on when she was given the second vial, Sire. Did Sir Gregory say when?"

The king nodded.

"Yes, it during the night."

Gaius sighed.

"Then it will be at least a few hours before she begins to stir... Sire, I would suggest that visits are kept to a minimum at first. She will need time to grieve, and I believe it would be best if her maid and I be the only ones to interact with her initially." When Uther moved to speak, Gaius raised a hand to interrupt him. "However, it is fine for you to come by later on today, so long as the visit is short. She is likely to resume her hysterics as it is, without being unduly agitated by encountering too many unknown faces too quickly."

Uther sighed, nodding in acceptance.

"I understand. Losing her father, along with the sudden move here, will be much of an ordeal for her. I will keep my distance for now, but if you would keep an eye on her in my stead."

Gaius nodded.

"Of course, Sire. I will keep you informed."

Uther left the room, Gaius turning to regard the young girl with a solemn expression. It was sad how often the young were the ones to suffer most.

He remained in the room, sat on the edge of the bed until the child's new maid arrived. He then departed, pausing to speak to the guards now stationed at the foot of the stairway outside and instructing them that should the Lady Morgana try to leave her chambers, they were to gently but firmly prevent her from doing so... He'd heard of how strong willed the girl could be, and he did not doubt that until she accepted being here she would try to run away. She was going to be a challenge for Uther, he was sure. She would certainly not be the complacent and obedient individual that Prince Arthur was. To expect otherwise would be futile if what he'd heard of her was true.

~(-)~

The young carpenter walked through the town, the streets around him amass with small groups of people talking in hushed voices.

Alan frowned a little, knowing that something must have happened. From the general atmosphere of the town, it wasn't something threatening or dangerous, but it _was_ something of a sort to give rise to the sudden spread of gossip. With that in mind, he continued onwards towards his workshop while simultaneously keeping an eye out for any of his acquaintances. He'd ask one of them if they knew what was going on, seeing as he preferred not to be seen 'joining in' with one of the many huddles containing known rumourmongers. He couldn't risk his reputation that way, not when he knew how picky some of the nobles among his clients could be.

He sighed at that thought, wishing that the steady stream of commissions from the nobility didn't come with the attached condition of having to care about social appearances. It was a small price though, and one he could deal with despite the inconveniences it caused at times. In the end he approached one of his 'neighbours' in the workshop next to his, tapping on the door since he knew the blacksmith would have been here much earlier than most in order to get his forge up to heat before the first of the day's clients would arrive.

"Hey, Rendel, do you know what the fuss is in town? I'd have asked one of the groups of gossips, but then you know what some of my clients are like."

The blacksmith glanced over to the man stood in his doorway; setting down the hammer he'd been about to take over to his anvil.

"You've heard of Voren, right?"

Alan snorted, frowning a little.

"The bastard that keeps pestering the girls working for Brandon at the inn? Yeah, I've heard of him."

Rendel quirked an eyebrow, slightly amused.

"Well apparently about an hour ago he charged into the tavern and tried to gut the guy he was sinking tankards with last night, screaming at him saying he'd stolen something from him. The other guy avoided being introduced to the sharp end of Voren's knife, but he did lose a couple of teeth to a table when he fell over getting out of the way."

Alan raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"So what happened to them?"

The blacksmith picked up his hammer again, hefting it to shoulder height as if preparing to hit something.

"Brandon knocked him out using that lead-weighted club he keeps behind his counter. The guy Voren tried to gut just packed his bags and left town before the guard could come. Voren though, he'll now be sitting pretty in Lord Hargren's dungeon."

Alan shook his head, preparing to leave.

"Our lord doesn't take kindly to attempted murder in his lands. Well, thanks for filling me in. I'll be able to go to sleep tonight knowing there are two less thugs on Ulwin's streets."

"Aye, have a good day, Alan."

"Same to you, Rendel."

Alan walked away from the blacksmith's workshop, entering his own and passing a board on the wall which was _covered_ with numerous commission requests. After completing the ones that had originally been his father, they'd liked his work so much that many had sent new ones. Word had then spread to their friends, and he'd found himself in the position of favour his father would have been in had he still been alive.

Looking at that board, and at the two partially finished pieces, Alan couldn't help but sigh though. He could have done with an assistant with the workload he was dealing with, because keeping up with the whims of the nobility was _damned _hard work. But it paid the rent, so he supposed he shouldn't complain, but he still found himself wishing the search for his brother were showing more luck... If Liam were home, he'd have begun teaching him everything their father had taught him.

Wondering where Liam was, and what he was doing now, Alan picked up the wooden tray containing his carving knives and got to work. His skilled hands turning the unadorned surface of a floor chest into an artwork of leaves and vines around a family crest. He'd just have to keep waiting for news, and hope his brother was alive and well.

~(-)~

Three sleepy figures grudgingly sat up in their makeshift bed, one of them stretching arms and legs before flopping back down onto his pile of old sacks.

Liam yawned, still tired from last night's job but at the same time aware that he _had_ to get up. If they didn't show their faces around town then Voren might start to wonder if they had anything to do with a certain fortune in missing coins.

He sat up again, getting down from the back of the large handcart they'd brought with them to Ulwin. That was the other part of the gang's pre-winter routine; the ones who were left behind in Ulwin went to Camelot as soon as they'd met their quota. From there they'd buy in bulk the majority of what the gang would need for the winter, making two or even three trips to the city in order to get enough. For now though, the vehicle made a half-decent bed, which by virtue of height also kept them clear of any rats that might scuttle around the floor during the night.

Liam was just stuffing a chunk of slightly stale bread into his mouth from their supplies, wondering where Kalem was, when the aforementioned sorcerer came flamboyantly into the shed flinging the door open and causing Jarl and Katia to near fall out of the back of the cart in fright.

Kalem grinned, tossing their bags to Jarl as he declared with satisfaction.

"Pack up, guys, we're leaving for Camelot."

Jarl caught the first couple of bags, dropping them on the cart before jumping to the floor frowning.

"But I thought we were going to wait until Voren had left town."

The sorcerer laughed.

"We were, but he's now sat in Lord Hargren's dungeon after trying to gut his buddy this morning. The other guy has already quit town, and given his past record I can't see Voren getting anything less than forced labour." He smirked. "He had it coming, though. A guy who steals from the poor, and beats up women for fun, _deserves _to go to the mines."

Katia now got down from the cart as well, folding her arms and staring at him disapprovingly.

"That's awfully harsh coming from you, Kalem. You've never been the type to be petty like that."

Liam glanced at her, speaking before Kalem got the chance to.

"He just hates bullies, people who pick on those smaller and weaker than themselves. With the skills he has now, Kalem could take over the gang and flatten any of us who tried to stop him. But he'd never do that, because he knows that those who are strong are meant to use that strength to _protect_ those weaker than themselves. Those who use strength and power just for their own benefit are _scum_."

Jarl nodded, agreeing.

"You got that right, Liam. Voren's made a lot of people suffer over the years, and now he's finally getting what he deserves. Yeah sure, he's in jail because we set things up so he'd place the blame for the theft on one of his buddies. But we also have to remember that it was his _own_ choice to pull that knife. People who act like thugs to get their own way, get treated like thugs, and that's all there is to it."

Katia looked between the two of the, before sighing and getting back into the cart.

"Fine, whatever. Let's just get moving and get to Camelot. I don't want to be here if Voren's buddy comes back looking for the missing money."

The three boys nodded in agreement, throwing the last of the bags into the cart and Jarl climbing in after them. Kalem and Liam then shoved the doors at the end of the shed open, each taking a handle of the cart and hauling it out into the daylight. They would take the first turn pulling, but was a long walk to Camelot so they might as well get started.

~(-)~

**Alaia Skyhawk: Yeah, Kalem comes across as being pretty indifferent to Voren's fate in this given the guy is in jail because they stole from him. But like Liam said, Kalem **_**hates**_** bullies, and as they say people reap what they sow, and Voren was **_**not**_** a nice guy.**


	18. Young Thief, New Ward 'Part 3'

**Alaia Skyhawk: Aaaaaaaaaand part three :)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Merlin TV series etc, but I do own the star of this fic... LIAM!**

**Music: "Boning the Turkeys" Folk song (Used for all of Liam's scenes), "Merlin Lost" Merlin OST (For the other scenes)**

~(-)~

Chapter 18: Young Thief, New Ward ~Part 3~

The child in the bed shifted beneath the covers, eyes scrunching up a little before they cracked open to look up into a world of unfamiliarity. Where was she? Why was she here? _Why_ had her father been taken away from her?

Morgana sat up, flinging back the blankets and sliding off of the bed. She staggered as her feet hit the stone floor, her legs shaking and still uncoordinated from the remnants of what she'd been drugged with. She didn't know this room, nothing was familiar, and certainly not the maid who hurried across the room towards her.

"My Lady, you shouldn't be out of bed yet! You'll hurt yourself."

She reached out to take the child by the shoulder, but the ten-year-old was having none of it. Morgana let out a piercing shriek of protest, shoving the arm away and making a break for the door.

"_Stay away from me!_"

Despite her unsteady legs she made it out the door before her maid could catch her, but she got no further than that. One of the guards outside, having heard the shouting, had come up the stairs and grabbed the child around the waist as she tried to run past him.

Ignoring her kicking and flailing, he then wordlessly carried her back into the room, carefully put her down, and then firmly closed the door before she could get out again.

The maid once again approached the girl, her expression set in a concerned frown.

"I'm sorry, My Lady, but you're not allowed to leave. The guards have been ordered not to let you pass. You're to remain in here until you calm down." She reached for Morgana's shoulder. "Now please, let me put you back to bed. You need to rest."

The moment her fingertips touched the child, she spun and lashed out. Neatly manicured nails left reddened tracks on the maid's arm, before Morgana raced to the opposite side of the room and sat in the corner partially hidden by the dressing screen. From there she stared at the maid with her eerily pale-blue eyes, eyes that began to well up with tears before her wails filled the chambers that were presently her prison.

"_I want to go home! I want my father and I want to go home!_"

The maid could only watch, holding her scratched arm, as the grieving child continued to scream. She was still screaming, and starting to become hoarse, when the king arrived just over an hour later. He heard the wailing, hurrying into the chamber to find the maid trying to coax his new ward out of her corner.

The maid's hands and arms bore the marks of her failures thus far, covered in scratch marks as well as one definite bite mark from the single occasion she'd tried to be more assertive and had grabbed the girl by the arm. Seeing the king enter, she ceased her present attempt at persuasion and bowed to him, anxiously approaching him and bowing again.

"I'm sorry, Sire, but she's extremely upset. She has attempted to run three times already, and every time the guards bring her back in she retreats into the corner."

Uther might have reprimanded the maid, but for her obvious signs of distress as well as her clearly child-inflicted injuries. Maybe it _was_ her distress that made him do it, or maybe just that he did not wish to appear harsh in front of Morgana, but he indicated the open door and sent her out.

"Go to Gaius and get those treated. Return when it is time for Morgana to have her supper. Until then, perhaps some quiet time alone will help her settle."

The maid curtseyed, before hurrying out the door.

"Yes, Sire."

Once she was gone, Uther took hold of a chair from the table in the outer of the two chambers, taking it and placing it in the inner chamber close to the corner where Morgana huddled. He then gazed at her solemnly, his tone low and tinged with regret.

"I am deeply sorry about the loss of your father, Morgana. I know you dislike being here, but I promised him that if something happened to him I would take care of you. I am going to keep that promise."

Blue eyes glared at him from amid a veil of dark curls.

"I want to go _home!_ _I don't want to be here!_"

The shrillness of her voice nearly made him wince, her expression of anger and pain making his heart ache. He got up from the chair, returning it to the table and glancing back at her.

"I will visit again in a few days, once you've had time to settle. All I ask is that you give me a chance before you decide you dislike me."

"_Leave me alone!_"

He could see his presence was only agitating her more, and he reluctantly left as wisdom dictated he should. Trying to force her would only make matters worse.

Morgana watched him go, waiting several minutes until she realised she'd truly been left in the room alone. She got up from her corner and made a dash for the door, but was once again grabbed and firmly set back inside the room by the guards outside.

Now staring at the back of that door, the door that was but the first barrier between her and going home, she kicked out at it screaming what few insults she knew at the men stood outside. She then returned to her corner, glaring balefully towards that door and anyone who might enter.

~(-)~

The two-wheeled cart rattled along the earthen road, the two youths sat in the back of it urging onwards the two who pulled it. The walk to Camelot had taken them three and a half days, their pace slowed a little by having to deal with the cart. It was going to be even worse going back, since the cart was going to be full, but that's why Gavin always left four gang members in Ulwin to deal with this chore. Two people could comfortably pull the cart when it was empty but for two passengers, four could pull it when it was full.

That was something they weren't really thinking about at this stage though, Kalem and Liam jogging down the road with the cart while Katia whooped from her perch inside it. The walk had been long but fun, even if Jarl's packhorse jokes had gotten old even before they'd been out of sight of Ulwin. Now though they were approaching the gates of Camelot, Kalem breaking into a smile and waving when he recognised one of the guards stood outside it.

"Hey! Henre! Long time no see!"

The guard, Henre, lifted his helm off for a moment and smiled at the youth, whom he had seen a number of times over the past few years.

"Back again, I see. Same reason as last year?"

Kalem brought the cart to a stop beside him, taking the lead in this conversation seeing as out of the four of them only he and Jarl, and Liam knew the man, and out of them he knew him best. He grinned at the guard, shrugging his shoulders before pasting an expression of long suffering on his face.

"Well you know how it goes. Large family of crafters, living in a small town... It's cheaper to buy stuff ready for winter from Camelot than back home. You just have to be willing to put up with the walk... _over _and _over _again. Still, I suppose the travelling is more interesting than being up to my elbows in _slop _dying leather."

The guard laughed, some of his fellows also chuckling. Kalem had been part of Gavin's gang ever since it was first founded, and he himself had only been six years old. In the eight years since then he was the only member who had been on the supply run every autumn, and it was him who had come up with their cover story and maintained it.

Henre, and the few other guards who recognised him, all believed that Kalem and whoever happened to be with him each trip were all part of an extended family of craftsmen living a few days walk west of Camelot. The young sorcerer had settled on being the 'son of a tanner', and thus always liked to quip and complain about the downsides of the job. Last year when Liam had been able to accurately add _his_ complaints about being the son of a carpenter, sweeping up wood shavings every day or accidentally gluing your sleeve to whatever you were working on, it had only helped to reinforce the tale.

It also helped that Kalem, when he wanted to be, was a flawless liar...

Leaving the guards and the gates behind them, the quartet of youths entered the city and made a beeline for the market. They weren't here to sightsee, and as soon as the cart was loaded they would head right back out again without staying the night... After all, Kalem did _not_ like hanging around in a city where sorcerers that got caught were either beheaded or burnt at the stake. Leading the way to where market stalls instead gave way to the small warehouses where the merchants who dealt with importing or exporting food items could be found, Kalem quickly began the process of negotiating the deals for the various things they were here to get.

Again his reputation, this time with the merchants, got them a quick sale and a good price. Not so good though was what he noticed about their cart as they were about to start loading it.

Kalem cursed as he knelt beside the left-hand wheel, Katia stopping beside him curious as to what the problem was.

"What's wrong?"

The young sorcerer stood up straight, turning to look at the merchant who was still bringing their purchases to the front of the warehouse.

"We've got a bent axel-pin. If we load the cart up as it is we'll almost certainly lose a wheel on the way back home. Would you mind keeping our stuff to one side while we go get it fixed?"

The merchant smiled, not bothered in the slightest considering the amount he'd just been paid in coppers and small denominations of silvers.

"Not at all. I'll just cover it with canvas until you get back."

Kalem grabbed one of the cart's handles, muttering under his breath about typical bloody bad timing before the four of them hauled the cart to Camelot's main blacksmith. Getting there wasn't a problem, in fact the cart went along just fine, but any comment that a certain seventeen-year-old might have made was silenced when after getting there he saw first hand just how bad the pin had been.

Thomas, the blacksmith, had propped the left side of the cart up on some crates, before using a hammer and a pair of tongs he pulled the damaged pin out of its hole in the end of the axel... One end of it had been nearly worn through due to rust, bending where it narrowed leaving it prime for snapping under the weight of a full load.

Kalem handed over the coins to get a new pin made, while the other three young thieves sat themselves along the wall at the front of the house beside the workshop. Sat there in the sunlight, warmed by it despite the coolness of the day, Liam dozed off within a few minutes and proceeded to snore softly. Katia had then nudged Jarl, the two of them rolling their eyes at the sound before grinning at Kalem. It was a standing joke that Liam snored, but as yet no one in the gang had told him he did.

They were still sat there a while later, when a girl who couldn't have been much older than Liam came out of the house with a jug of water. She regarded them with curious brown eyes, before offering the jug and murmuring quietly.

"My father said to ask you if you wanted a drink... Would you like some water?"

Kalem smiled at her, holding a hand out to accept the container.

"Water would be nice. We've been walking all day for _three_ days, and we're going to have to walk back again as soon as the cart's fixed and we can collect the supplies we bought. It's just typical we didn't notice the pin needed replacing until after we'd already come out here, or Jarl's uncle could have fixed it before we left."

He lightly elbowed Jarl, when the girl reacted with interest at the remark.

"His uncle is a blacksmith?"

Resisting the urge to rub his ribs where they'd been dug, Jarl nodded and quickly dissembled.

"Yeah, he is, but blacksmithing isn't my thing. Most of the time I'm just a general helping hand. Not everyone in our family trains up for a craft, some of us learn a little bit here and there so we can help where we're needed when we're needed. It's means I'm never sure what work I'm going to do each day, but that just makes it more interesting."

He was grinning by the time he got to the last part, but not for the reason the girl might have thought. It was more that he'd managed to come up with something so odd yet believable when Kalem had put him on the spot like that.

The jug was now passed to him, Jarl taking several gulps from it before passing it to Katia. Meanwhile Kalem had gotten up to go see how Thomas was doing. He looked like he was nearly done, just doing the final tempering of the new pin so that it wouldn't shatter under the stresses it would be subjected to. In fact Kalem was just about to offer him a helping hand when a yell and a chorus of splutters erupted from by the house, followed by an explosion of laughter and giggles when a now soaking wet Liam staggered to his feet swearing.

Tom's daughter accepted the jug that was offered by to her by Katia, fighting to hide her smile as she disappeared back into the house with it.

Liam was still glaring occasional daggers at Katia half an hour later, when they hauled their now laden cart out of the city and down the road to where they'd buried the box of coins before entering the city. As soon as they'd collected it, they would head with all haste back to the gang's home within the Forest of Ascetir.

~(-)~

"Please, Lady Morgana, you _must_ eat."

The maid looked between the tray of food on the table, and the ragged looking girl huddled in the corner. Morgana had been here for the better part of four days now, and not once during all that time had she eaten a single thing. She'd accepted water, when left alone with a pitcher, but she appeared to have gone on some sort of hunger strike in protest against being kept here. She wanted to go back to the home that had been her father's... a home that even now was being closed down and mothballed until such a day as she married and moved back there with whomever it was who gained her hand in wedlock.

But that was something Morgana didn't know about, and would likely refuse to understand. She was too young to run the home on her own, and given his promise to her father, Uther would not have allowed it even if she had been. She was in his care and she would stay in his care, until the time he felt it was right to send her out to live a life without his guidance.

When Morgana did not move from her corner, and continued only to stare with those piercing blue eyes of hers, the maid sighed in defeat and left the midday meal where it sat. She walked out of the girl's chambers, her expression settling into a thoughtful regard. She hated to see Morgana like this, starving herself and refusing any and all attempts at kindness. If she would not accept anything from an adult, perhaps she might accept it from someone her own age.

She hurried through the castle, her decision made, making her way to and up the tower where the chambers of the Court Physician could be found. Arriving there she knocked lightly on the door, entering when Gaius called out that she do so.

When she came in he regarded her with surprise, surprise that gave way to concern when he realised her visit might have something to do with her mistress.

"Is something wrong with Morgana?"

She shook her head, hesitating for a moment before speaking. She would undermine her own future position with this, but she couldn't bear to see the child suffering the way she was. If this would help her settle and become happy here, then it was worth the small sacrifice. She was a retainer already, so all that would happen is she might one day be moved to tend another lady.

"Lady Morgana is still refusing to eat, or to do anything other than sit in her corner or try to run away... There's..."

The hesitation came back, Gaius frowning a little as he walked over towards her.

"Yes?"

She sighed.

"An old friend of mine, who worked for the family of Sir Leon, died recently. Her husband is Camelot's blacksmith, Thomas, and since her death the family has fallen on hard times. He has a daughter, Gwen, and I think she might be able to get through to her. Gwen will understand her grief, and being the same age perhaps Lady Morgana will open up to her. Gwen's family need the income she could earn, so despite her young age I'm sure her father would accept the offer of a job for her. She can assist me in tending to Morgana, until she is old enough to manage on her own. Having someone she knows will understand her is probably the best chance of Lady Morgana being happy here."

Gaius raised his eyebrows a little, for it was rare indeed for a servant to volunteer information that could ultimately lead to them losing their current post... and especially to do so for the sake of being kind.

He nodded, guiding her towards the door.

"Thank you. I will speak to Uther about it immediately, and you can be certain I will make sure he knows of your selflessness in doing this."

He sent her on her way, before heading out himself to seek the king. He found him in the council chambers occupying himself with matters of state, although to the physician it was obvious his mind was on his new ward.

That concern was even more obvious to his long-time friend and advisor when he looked up from the report he'd been reading, his face settling into a slight frown of worry when he saw who had come to see him.

"What is it, Gaius? Is something wrong with Morgana?"

The physician reassured him, shaking his head.

"No, Sire, she's fine at present although still refusing to eat... That is why I'm here, Sire. Her maid has been to me with a suggestion that I do believe may get through to her and help her to settle here."

Uther rose to his feet.

"What did she suggest?"

Gaius paused for a moment, before inclining his head and explaining.

"Camelot's main blacksmith, Thomas, recently lost his wife whom until her death worked for the family of Sir Leon. He has a daughter, Gwen, who is the same age as Morgana. Having recently experienced the loss of a parent herself, along with her age, it may well be that Morgana will respond to her. Her maid suggested that Gwen could be her assistant, selflessly offering to move to another position within the castle once Gwen is old enough to serve as Morgana's maid on her own. In light of that, I do believe that it would be worth a try, for if this continues we may be faced with having to physically force Morgana to eat lest she starve herself in her present emotional state."

The king regarded Gaius for a long moment, before he nodded and sat down once again.

"Do it... If this works, I will guarantee that the girl, Gwen, will retain her position as Morgana's maid."

"And her present maid, Sire?"

Uther frowned slightly.

"She will be properly compensated with an equivalent position at the appropriate time."

Gaius bowed, starting to back up.

"Then I will go and speak to Thomas, and if possible bring his daughter to the castle immediately."

Uther nodded.

"See to it that I receive word of any change in Morgana's condition."

"Yes, Sire."

Gaius hurried from the chamber, at once both relieved and apprehensive. Now to pray that this would work.

~(-)~

The twigs of the broom scraped over the floor, the scratching sound filling the inside of the house with the familiar rhythm of the homely chore.

Gwen sighed, trying not to worry. The group that had come by earlier to get their cart fixed had been the first job for her father in two days, and while he'd been crafting tools and such in the meantime to sell, demand for them was low right now with prices to match. The family's meagre savings were being eaten away by the rent, and even having cut back their meals to the most basic of things that too was cutting into the slim remainder. If things didn't pick up soon, they would be out on the streets in less than a month, and right in the middle of the start of winter.

Thing were grim, and she knew it.

"Gwen! Could you come out here for a moment!"

Her father's shout made her pause in her sweeping, and she set aside the broom to do as she was told. When she reached the door and went outside, she then stopped in uncertainty at what she saw.

It was Gaius, the Court Physician, and it seemed he'd been speaking to her father. He seemed to spot her uncertainty as she stood there, gesturing lightly with one wrinkled hand for her to come over.

"It's quite all right, child, there's no need to be alarmed."

Gwen eyed him nervously, before turning to her father in query. Thomas answered her unspoken question, explaining why the physician had come.

"The Lady Morgana, our Lord Uther's new ward, needs someone her own age to help her settle in... Gaius has come to ask you to work in the castle, Gwen, as an assistant to Lady Morgana's current maid."

"A job? In the castle?"

Gwen's eyes had widened a little in hope; this was something that could help her family keep their house.

Gaius nodded, confirming it was true.

"Yes, and if all goes well and you do a good job, then King Uther has declared that you will eventually become Morgana's sole personal maid. It is a very good opportunity, dear, and one that not many will ever see in a lifetime."

Gwen looked at her father, before turning back to Gaius and speaking confidently.

"When do you need me to start?"

Before Gaius could answer, Tom put a hand on his daughter's shoulder.

"Are you sure, Gwen?"

"We need the money..."

There was no argument he could make to that, and he knew it. Gaius knew it as well, and acted to reassure the man that all would be well.

"I will make sure that none of the troublemakers I know of bother her, and she will be supervised by Morgana's other maid at all times she is not within Morgana's chambers. There is no need to worry, and I will see to it that someone escorts her to and from the castle, morning and evening, as well. Now, if you are amenable to it, Gwen is needed as soon as possible."

The blacksmith hesitated, before reluctantly nodding and looking at his daughter.

"Go and wash, quickly, and go with Gaius. I'll see you back here for supper."

Gwen hurried into the house, returning a few minutes later with her hair combed and tied back and her face and hands pink from being scrubbed. She fell into line alongside Gaius, trusting the kind-hearted physician to look after her on the way to the castle. She became a bit more nervous when they entered the courtyard for what was, for her, the first time in her life. She looked daunted and uncertain, but followed him none the less.

When they finally ascended the short flight of stairs, located on the third floor, to the entrance of Morgana's chambers, he crouched down to look her eye-to-eye and quietly explained what she would see within.

"Lady Morgana only arrived here a few days ago, and she is now King Uther's ward. She's just lost her father, and she is now an orphan, so she is understandably upset. I need you to try and help her settle, to be a friend to her. She _needs_ a friend after what she's been through, and I think after what you've been through you could use a friend as well. Maybe the two of you can help each other." He nudged her towards the door. "Now go on. Knock three times and then go in, that's the polite way to enter a noblewoman's chambers."

"Y-Yes, Sir."

Gwen approached the door, hesitating before tentatively doing as instructed. When she entered she found a chamber in a state of disarray, a woman in servant's garb in the process of tidying everything.

She looked up as Gaius and Gwen entered, the physician ushering the girl forward while also gesturing for the maid to come with him. Once she was out of the room, he turned to Gwen and then pointed to the far corner of the visible adjacent chamber.

"I think she'll be over there, and remember, she's hurting a great deal over the death of her father."

He left the room, Gwen now alone with the girl who she was to serve. She looked about the chamber, uncertain of what to do, until practical minded as she was she began to finish the tidying that the other maid had started.

She worked her way across the outer room, before making her way into the side where the bed resided. That's when she spotted the dishelved and unhappy figure of Morgana huddling staring in her corner. She also noticed the food set within the girl's line of sight in the outer room, and the way those pale-blue eyes kept wandering to it before snapping back to stare at this new and youthful stranger.

Gwen started to tidy the bed, struggling with the heavy covers for several minutes before succeeding in getting them at least reasonably neat, she then went over to the table where the food sat, frowning before looking over at the pale face of Morgana.

"You haven't eaten your food, My Lady, it's gone cold. Would you like me to ask if some fresh could be brought up?"

"_I'm not hungry!_"

Morgana's shout lacked any real force for Gwen, for it was blatantly obvious to her that the girl in the corner was _definitely_ hungry. With that in mind, she put her hands on her hips, tilting her head and frowning.

"Then _why _do you keep staring at it like you want it? If you're hungry, then you should _eat_... My mother always said we should be grateful for the food we are given, and never waste it."

Morgana scowled, shouting angrily in reply.

"Then why doesn't _she _come and tell me that?"

Gwen froze, instantly silent, biting her lip and clenching her fists as she fought not to cry. She turned away, walking to and starting to tidy the dressing table that was also a mess... Before eventually she stifled a sob and murmured quietly.

"She can't... because she's _dead_." She glanced at Morgana, still upset, her voice rising in volume with each word she spoke. "Right now there isn't enough work for my father to look after my brother and me. Without mom's wages, we'll be out of our house by the end of the month... _Right_ at the start of winter! That's why I'm working here." She then turned fully to face Morgana, pointing at the table and the plate of food. "Now _eat!_ If you don't, and you get sick and die, I'll _lose _this job and my family will _lose our house_!"

Shocked to the core to hear such blunt yet practical words coming from a girl her own age, Morgana stared at her for several moments before tentatively coming out of her corner. She slowly went to the table while Gwen watched, before eating the food there as fast as she could manage with no regard for the manners she should have displayed as the daughter of a noble.

When she was done she sat down at the table, staring at the empty plate, her hair a tangled mess and her dress askew. Gwen continued to watch her for a moment, before by way of apology for her outburst she picked up a comb and a hairbrush from the dressing table and went over to her.

Morgana flinched when Gwen started to get the tangles out of her hair, but didn't try to move away. Instead she sat in silence until the matted mess had become an ordered array of curls, albeit curls in need of a wash.

Gwen left her sat at the table, going to the tub set out near the hearth and finding it partially filled with cold water. There were pots of hot water lined up along the hearth in front of the fire, ready to be tipped into it, and soap and towels also kept hopefully nearby. The other maid had tried, but failed, to get Morgana to bathe that morning.

Gwen started tipping the hot water into the tub, checking it after each pot to make sure she didn't make it too hot. She then called over to her fellow ten-year-old, her voice cajoling and reassuringly steady. Morgana was upset and frightened, she could see that now, and all she needed was for someone she knew understood her pain to be the supporting hand to help her find her feet.

"Come on, you need to get cleaned up. It's not right for a lady to have dirty smudges on her face."

Morgana stiffened at that remark, a hand going to a face that in fact didn't have any smudges on it at all. But the comment did get her to move, and once again walking slowly she came over to the tub.

The ten-year-old Gwen firmly helped Morgana get out of her rumpled dress, making her sit the tub with a pointed finger before dipping a jug into the water and tipping the contents over the other girl's head. Morgana, startled at being almost mothered by a girl the same age as herself, submitted without protest to having her hair soaped, scrubbed, and rinsed by the other girl.

When the other maid came back a couple of hours after leaving Gwen in the room she found a washed and groomed Morgana, neatly clothed in a clean dress, sat at the dressing table. Gwen was stood behind her, teasing Morgana's still slightly damp hair into ringlets and telling her how pretty she looked. Morgana stiffened though when she spotted the other maid, almost bolting for her corner, but stopped when Gwen put a hand on her shoulder. Instead she let Gwen lead her to the table, sitting down and eating the food that the other maid had brought up for her.

Smiling to herself as she then took the now cleared plates back to the kitchens, the maid breathed a sigh of relief before going in search of the king to inform him of the good news. Bringing in Gwen had worked, and with time Morgana would hopefully now settle into her new life as his ward.

~(-)~

The cart had rattled along the earthen track through the forest, the four youths pulling it doing so in the full confidence that on this route nothing would attack them. The track had been created by some of the druids living in the forest, and they'd concealed it with enchantments that caused those who were not welcome to turn aside without even noticing it. The gang had been given permission to use it, as thanks for acting as a supply point for the herbs that were hard to get in this forest, and it was just as well considering the old road to the castle would have wrecked the cart's wheels after less than a mile.

Now though, they were back at the castle having found the rest of the gang were back from the trip into Cenrid's lands. After the contents of the box stolen from Voren had been counted, the quartet of youths had been subject to a massive bout of cheering and back patting. They had, in their audacity, actually brought home more than the rest of the gang had made from their sortie into the neighbouring kingdom.

Raising a mug of pilfered wine, Gavin toasted to the youths with a laugh and a smile on his face.

"To our rising stars, may their guts continue to lead them to good fortune, and may they never encounter anyone who wants to have their guts for stealing from them." He took a gulp from his mug, looking over to where the four grinning youths were sat. "Enjoy yourselves, young'uns, because tomorrow you're heading right back to Camelot to get another load."

At that remark both Kalem and Liam put on fake pouts and pretended to sulk, before both of them, Jarl, and Katia began laughing. Life was good with the gang, and all was well.

~(-)~

**Alaia Skyhawk: You might be wondering why that maid basically undermined her own role as Morgana's maid. Just put it down to her being a nice person, and concerned at Morgana refusing to eat. She wanted Morgana to be happy in her new home, and also knew that if her idea worked then the fact she suggested it to Uther would guarantee her a decent replacement role once Gwen can manage on her own. Ah the politics of servant life XD**


	19. The Border Lands Boy 'Part 1'

**Alaia Skyhawk: You guys are going to love me for this one XD**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Merlin TV series etc, but I do own the star of this fic... LIAM!**

**Music: **

~(-)~

Chapter 19: The Border Lands Boy ~Part 1~

The quartet of youths, whose exploits in Ulwin had been recounted several times over the winter, walked through the forests in the borderlands of Cenrid's kingdom. This wasn't a trip for supplies, nor was it to go out and steal. No, it was just a leisure trip under the supervision of three of the older members of the gang.

Bryce, the gang's best lock picker, Uren, and Ril. The latter two were just generalists, although Ril was an excellent archer. When Kalem had complained to Gavin that he needed to get the winter kinks out of his bones, the gang's leader had sent them out with the four youths to keep them occupied for a week or two. The gang was in no hurry to go back to thieving. Not with there still being supplies left in their storerooms, and coins left in the box stolen from Voren. For once this was a spring where they could relax and enjoy one of the pastimes of the nobility... Going out to hunt and to camp just for the hell of it.

Kalem glanced at the group when they began to set up camp, close to a stream and nestled within a dip in the land among the trees. Only he, Uren, and Ril would be actually doing any hunting. Liam could barely draw a bow, Katia and Jarl had aim's only good enough to hit a barn door from five yards away, and Bryce was the unofficial leader of this little expedition, meaning he would stay in camp to keep an eye on things while the trio went out to hunt.

He was just about to start unpacking his bedroll when a familiar request arose from where Jarl had made a crude fire pit.

"Kalem, light this for me, will you."

Letting out a long-suffering sigh, while Liam chuckled at the sorcerer's expression, Kalem pointed to the pile of wood and lit it with what was becoming a much-used spell. He was starting to think half the people in the gang had _forgotten_ how to light a fire the normal way.

He then resumed laying out his bedroll, making sure to kick aside any stray rocks or twigs from the ground beneath it.

"So how long are we going to stop here?" He stood up straight, looking over at Bryce. "You've led us in so many circles the past few days I'm not even sure where we are. All I know is we're somewhere east of Ascetir, and considering it takes two days to walk the length of it that's not a very good estimate."

The forty-something man glanced at him, raising an eyebrow beneath his shaven head.

"Well if you know where the Forest of Ascetir is, then you can find your way back to the castle. All you do it follow the forest's edge north until you spot the old road east."

Kalem stared at him for several seconds, the fourteen-year-old rolling his eyes and shaking his head.

"All of a sudden I remember why I'm so glad Gavin leads the way during most of our trips."

He ducked the stick that was thrown at him, smirking at Bryce before going off to gather extra firewood. It was the same old routine, and one that probably would have been boring if not for the company he kept. What they didn't know was that Bryce, far from keeping them away from settlements, had inadvertently put them less than an hour's walk from a nearby village... And they were a group who for the most part could be easily mistaken for bandits.

~(-)~

A small sigh drifted through the inside of the cottage, echoing off earthen walls and the straw thatch overhead. Sweeping... Sweeping sweeping sweeping... Why was he always stuck doing things so _boring?_

The nine-year-old sighed again, letting it out as a muted snort of disgust, before brushing an errant bit of black hair out of the way of his blue eyes. Those eyes had a habit of wandering, of straying away from the task at hand to instead latch onto anything else that happened to be more interesting. They almost _searched_ to find new things, fuelled by the inescapable urge the boy they belonged to felt to explore and try to fathom everything he could see.

It was a yearning for learning that gotten him into more than his share of mishaps, usually involving him almost being stung, kicked, or bitten by something... Or nearly accidentally cutting his own fingers off like that time he'd investigated one of his mother's cooking knives when he was three.

He winced at the memory, even if he did only have the vaguest of recollections of it. One thing he did remember clearly was the way his mother had snatched the blade from him, fear he'd hurt himself written across her face. He'd learnt his lesson, and never gone near the knives again until he'd been old enough to appreciate that they weren't toys to be messed around with.

He looked over to where the knives were hung, there on hooks above the hearth. For those who might wonder how a three-year-old managed to get hold of something placed six feet above the floor, it was answered a moment later when in his sweeping the boy jostled the table stood in the middle of the cottage's single room.

He stumbled a little, throwing out a hand to catch himself but knocking an empty wooden bowl off the table. But before it had even fallen a few inches something strange happened, when the boy reacted on sheer reflex and stopped its fall mid air.

The fleeting golden glow of magic faded from his blue eyes after it happened, the bowl now _hovering _there motionless. He looked around frantically to make sure no one had been looking in through one of the tiny windows and seen, before he snatched it from the air and hastily put it back on the table. He then grabbed the broom from the floor where he'd dropped it, taking it and setting it against the wall with a small sigh of relief. If his mother had seen him do that, she'd have given him a clip round the ear for being careless.

The price he paid on a regular basis when she caught him using his powers... But he just couldn't _help_ it, magic happened sometimes even when he wasn't _trying_ to use it.

The boy sighed, deciding to sit and mend his single solitary spare shirt rather than risk another 'accident'. He'd torn it yesterday, not a large hole, but large enough his mother had instructed him to fix it before he wore it again. She was too busy in the fields most of the day, and she'd long since taught him how to mend his own clothing, so he was left to do it himself.

It only took a moment to locate the tiny basket where the precious sewing needles were kept, along with spools of good, even thread that wouldn't snag when being used. He made sure to only cut enough thread from one of them to fix the hole, wary of wasting any lest his mother scold him for it. She wasn't unkind, far from it... Most of her scoldings were because she was frightened for him.

Yes, _for_ him, not _of_ him... Nothing mattered to her more than his safety, especially since they lived just outside a kingdom where those with magic were executed without mercy. She did not want that fate for her son.

Expertly putting the end of his strand through the eye of one of the small bone needles from the basket, he then proceeded to mend his shirt with careful and neat stitches. It wouldn't have made much difference to how it looked though, even if he had done the job messily. His shirt had been mended so many times that there was almost as much mends as there was cloth.

Job done, he tossed it onto the small bed in the corner and put the needle and sewing basket away. His chores were done for now, so maybe his mother would let him have some time for himself.

He went outside, walking around the back of the cottage and looking out over the field their. He could see his mother sowing seeds over the recently ploughed soil, and shouted out to her from where he stood.

"Mom, can I go play with Will?"

She paused in her work, turning to look over at him.

"Are your chores done?"

"Yes, mom."

She smiled, chuckling a little before giving her son her answer.

"All right, Merlin, you can go. But make sure you don't cause any trouble."

The boy, Merlin, broke into a wide smile, turning and scampering away.

"I won't!"

It didn't take him long to find the other boy, the same age as him and his partner in mischief. The two of them ran off into the surrounding woods, to explore and pretend they were fierce warriors trekking into the unknown.

~(-)~

The arrow shot through the air, neatly skewering the rabbit it had been aimed at.

Ril lowered his bow, admiring his shot while Kalem went a retrieved the creature.

"Not bad, if I do say so myself."

Uren elbowed him as he walked past, shaking his head.

"Show off."

"Well I am the best shot with a bow in the gang. Can't I brag about it?"

Kalem threw the rabbit at him, giving him a long look.

"Sure you can... Just not _every_ time you fire an arrow."

He turned and walked away, pulling an arrow from his quiver and setting it to his bow ready to draw, leaving Ril to stand there a slightly insulted expression on his face. He knew he'd get over it though, Ril always did.

They continued on through the trees, Uren getting his first rabbit and Ril bagging his second. With only himself without a catch, the sorcerer now tried to get ahead a little so he'd have more of a chance at the next one they found, his position meaning he was the first to hear the sudden crashing of something large coming through the undergrowth.

He drew his bow, pointing it to where he predicted what he was assuming was a deer would come into view, only to be forced to alter his aim last second when he released it.

The arrow flew a few feet higher than his original aim, slamming into a tree having passed less than a foot above the heads of the two young boys who'd just shown up. The darker haired one of the two had fallen over in surprise, the other boy seeing the three strangers and grabbing the nearest fallen branch he could lift.

Kalem, glancing at his and his friend's ragged clothing, sighed as the inevitable assumption had been made. As he did so, Uren started towards the stick-wielding boy holding his hands so they could be seen.

"Look, kid, you can put that down. We're not here to pick a fight."

The boy tensed, backing up a step when the man came closer.

"Keep back, bandit!"

He swung the stick at Uren, forcing the man to duck backwards. It was then that the gang member started to frown, realising this kid needed a firm kick up the backside to teach him not to jump to conclusions.

He snapped a hand out, grabbing and yanking the stick from the boy's hands, before looking down at where he'd fallen flat and lifting the stick to deliver an appropriate whack to the youth's rear.

The stick never got to make the downward swing, as the dark-haired boy below the arrow got to his feet with a yell, the boy on the floor shouting back in reply."

"Will! Get away from him!"

"Run, Merlin, you prat!"

Uren paused, looking at the boy before wordlessly Merlin shoved him backwards with magic. Kalem spluttered in surprise as his companion sailed through the air to tumble through the leaves on the forest floor, before holding out a hand and stopping Ril going for Merlin.

"Leave him be! The kid has magic!"

Merlin stiffened, looking between Kalem and Will who was now staring at him... before slowly starting to back up.

"I uh... N-no I don't."

Will looked at Merlin, then at Uren who still in the process of getting up out of the leaf litter having luckily not hit a tree.

"But you threw him... without touching him..."

Merlin hesitated for a moment longer, before he turned and legged it through the trees. In the seconds after, Kalem approached Will and pulled him to his feet.

"Sorry about the arrow, we were hunting for rabbits... which you'd have _known _if you'd bothered to let us explain. We could have told you we're not in the area to cause trouble. We're only camping for a few days to take a break from travelling. We didn't even know there was anyone else around these parts. Is your home near here?"

Will stared at the relaxed fourteen-year-old, nodding slowly.

"The village of Ealdor... You're not bandits?"

Kalem shook his head, while Uren muttered in the background.

"No, we're not."

Kalem let go of Will, before tilting his chin to indicate the direction Merlin went.

"I don't know how magic is looked on in your village, but from his reaction it can't be good. Not surprising, really, this close to Camelot, even considering that these lands stopped banning magic when Cenrid took over... But he still used it to protect you, so he must consider you a really important friend for him to do that. I suggest you go find him and tell him he doesn't need to worry."

Kalem turned and started walking away, the other two following his lead, before glancing back when Will called out after them.

"And how can you be so sure I'd accept him having magic?"

Kalem gave him a knowing stare.

"Because while bandits are scum... those who betray their friends are _lower_ than scum... By using his magic in front of you, he's placed his life in your hands. So the question now is, what are you going to do with it?"

They walked away, William remaining where he stood with an odd expression on his face. He then turned and ran in the direction that Merlin went, his calls echoing through the trees.

"Merlin! Merlin, come back!"

~(-)~

**Alaia Skyhawk: Heeee, LITTLE MERLIN AND WILLIAM!**


	20. The Border Lands Boy 'Part 2'

**Alaia Skyhawk: I HATE IT WHEN MY LAPPY THROWS A FIT! I lost this chapter, COMPLETELY, JUST after I'd finished it last night. I've had to re-write the whole bloody thing! All because everything decided to freeze when I clicked save for the last time after doing my spellcheck. The only fix was a forced restart, and it wiped the chapter file because it was mid-save. Stupid computer (grumbles)**

**About the only plus is I think I added a few little extra bits when I redid this, but on the downside I wasted two hours of typing time writing something I've already written once.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Merlin TV series etc, but I do own the star of this fic... LIAM!**

**Music: **

~(-)~

Chapter 20: The Border Lands Boy ~Part 2~

Quiet chatter surrounded the campfire, punctuated by teasing taunts, giggles, and a young voice repeatedly asking the culprits to quiet down so he could concentrate.

Liam had let out a longsuffering sigh, before his frown changed to a grin when he looked up from the lock he was practicing on and saw Kalem and the other two hunters arriving. Bryce, though, who had been giving him a lesson, noticed that Uren was limping slightly.

He rose to his feet, frowning in concern.

"Did something happen?"

Kalem smirked, giving Uren a wry look before turning back to the lock expert.

"We got into a bit of a misunderstanding with two locals from a village near here, and Uren got his ass handed to him by a kid less than half his age."

When Bryce stared, and the three youths behind him began to chuckle at the thought, Uren grumbled under his breath.

"How was I supposed to know the kid had magic?"

"Magic?"

Liam's suddenly curious voice piped up from where he sat, Ril answering him and filling in the details.

"We heard something coming through the bushes and thought it was a deer, so Kalem took aim ready to shoot. He had to change aim quick when he fired, but he still nearly hit the two kids. They mistook us for bandits, and one of them took at swing at Uren with a stick..."

Uren added the remainder.

"And when I took the stick off him, and went to give him a clip round the rear to teach him not to jump to conclusions, the other kid sent me flying through the air just by _looking_ at me."

"Whoa!"

It was Katia's turn to stare, and realising the fuss this was raising, and not liking it, Kalem quickly spoke up to dampen interest down.

"Look, let's just forget this. I'll admit, that kid is almost certainly High Priest material if he's using magic like that when he's Liam's age, but it's got nothing to do with us. If not for me almost shooting him, we probably wouldn't even have known he _had_ magic. He'd just be 'the kid we scared the crap out of by accident'."

Bryce glanced at him, frowning a little and folding his arms across his chest.

"That's true and all, but if he's got talent like that then maybe we should tell the Druid's about him."

Kalem went stiff, the same gut feeling he'd gotten when he saw the boy use magic, rising again with violence enough that the leaves at his feet blew outwards from a small gust of agitated wind.

"No!" He hesitated, now realising they were all staring at him. "Look, if we tell the Druids, chances are they'll come here and one way or another that kid will end up forced to leave his home, with or without his family. If we tell anyone else, then word might get to Cenrid and _he'd_ come and take him using violence. Either way, the kid's life in his quiet home village would be wrecked. Do any of you guys want to be responsible for a kid possibly ending up alone without his family, or enslaved by Cenrid? Best just leave things be and let them play out on their own terms."

Ril looked around at everyone, seeing that their group's sorcerer's words had struck home with all of them. They all knew what it was like to end up with nothing and no one.

"Kalem's right, let's just forget this. Chances are the Druids will come across the kid at some point anyway, so let's not get involved. All in favour?"

He raised his hand, six more joining it and making the vote unanimous. This topic of discussion ended here, and wouldn't be mentioned again.

Kalem breathed an inward sigh of relief when attention turned to the task of cooking the rabbits they'd caught, but at the same found himself wondering. Why _had_ he reacted so strongly to the idea of telling even the trustworthy Druids about the boy they'd encountered? He'd hidden it at the time, but the same gut reaction had left him nearly breathless when he'd seen him throw Uren with nothing more than a pale glimmer of golden eyes. He'd done it with so little effort, like it had been just a flick of his mind directing the power. Quite literally he hadn't even looked like he was _trying_, he'd just _done_ it.

Who was that boy? A boy who for an instant had sent a shiver of almost fear down his spine, a boy who had been born _after_ the start of the Purge and the birth of a certain prophesied king-to-be.

Kalem went rigid, his mind churning as he remembered that prophesy Nellan had taught him... Realising just whom, if his instincts were right, that boy might be.

~(-)~

He'd heard Will's shouts echoing through the forest, calling for him to come back, but he'd not moved even the slightest from his hiding place. He'd stayed there, too scared to come out, the day slowly edging towards night while he remained indecisive.

Merlin huddled under the exposed roots of a fallen tree, his knees tucked up to his chin, arms wrapped around them. He'd hand any number of questions tumbling through his head since it had happened, the main three rising again and again to gnaw at him until he answered them to himself.

Why hadn't he run like Will told him to? Because he couldn't abandon him. Why had he used his magic in front of him? To protect him. What was going to happen now? ...He didn't know.

Merlin bit his lip, starting to curse himself as he'd done a number of times now. When he'd heard Will calling out for him, searching for him, it became blatantly obvious that the 'bandits' mustn't have been bandits. They'd probably been travellers, hunting game to eat, and he and Will had just charged into their path with bad timing.

He'd used his magic to throw... to _hurt_... someone when if he'd waited a few seconds longer he'd have been able to avoid it. He'd probably wrecked everything, all his mother's efforts to keep him safe and his powers secret, and all because he'd disobeyed her instructions _never_ to use his magic in front of other people. In fact she'd rather he never use it at all, but at the same time knew he couldn't help it. It was sheer luck he'd not been caught before now, what with all the little accidental bits of magic that cropped up.

Merlin winced. This was different though. All those accidents in front of people had been tiny things, or things easily shrugged off as the wind or something. None of them had obviously been magic, and had never been noticed as strange, but this had. A man thrown through the air, without being touched, could not be shrugged off as 'just the wind'.

A branch cracked in the distance, making him twitch in his hiding place. It was getting dark, and who knew what things might come out once night fell. He had two choices; stay here and face the dark and the danger, or go home and face whatever it was that would be waiting for him there... Waiting, like his mother.

The thought of his mother decided him, the young warlock crawling filthy out from under the roots. He was dusted and smudged with dirt from head to toe, but that was the least of his worries. What worried him now was if or not William had told everyone what he'd seen... He'd find out soon enough.

Merlin began to trudge back towards the village, shoulders hunched and expression apprehensive. When it eventually came into sight, and he walked cautiously out from under the edge of the trees, one of several villagers soon keeping watch for the missing boy called out and rushed over to him.

"_Merlin!_" The boy went rigid in fright, expecting to be grabbed and dragged along like a criminal, but instead he was quickly but gently ushered to his house where his mother waited for him. "Hunith! He's here, and there's not a scratch on him!"

Hunith, who had been sat on a stood outside the house with her head in her hands, got up and hurried along the darkened path to her son. She then crouched down and hugged him tightly in relief, before pushing him to arm's length and shaking him soundly.

"Merlin, don't you _ever_ scare me like that ever again! I was so worried when William came back and said he couldn't find you!"

Her son hunched his shoulders in shame, that shame only deepening inside when he lied about what had happened.

"I bet Will that I could hide and he wouldn't be able to find me, but I went too far and got lost... I'm sorry."

Hunith stood up, thanking their neighbour for their help before ushering her son into their house.

"I'm going to have a word with Will's mother in the morning, and Will as well. Both you and him should _know_ better than to go wandering off deep into the woods. There's no telling who or what might be out there. From now on you are going to stay close to the village. You can still play in the woods, but only where you can still see Ealdor through the trees."

Merlin, still feeling ashamed but also deeply relieved, nodded submissively. It seemed that Will hadn't told anyone the truth about what had happened, at least not yet.

"Yes mom."

She sighed, setting out his supper and going to turn back the blankets on his bed.

"You really are a handful, Merlin. There are times now when I wonder whatever will you do when you're grown up. At the moment, I just really don't know."

A little puzzled by what she'd meant by that, Merlin ate his supper and let himself be put to bed. He liked living in Ealdor, it was just he also wished there was a place use his magic and be himself.

Fighting back a yawn and failing miserably, the nine-year-old warlock rolled over and tried to go to sleep with one worry still on his mind... He still didn't know what Will thought about him having magic.

~(-)~

Not far from the village, out in the woods, the half-a-gang too were preparing for bed. They'd talked around the campfire all day, told stories as dusk came over, and then one-by-one had retreated to bedrolls for some needed sleep. Only Uren was awake, taking the first watch. He'd sit by the fire for a while before getting up to check the area around the camp. While he was gone there was no one awake to overhear if muted whispers were spoken, and that was precisely what Liam waited for before reaching for the boy lying beside him and nudging him to get his attention.

"Kalem."

The sorcerer rolled over, frowning slightly as he stared at his friend.

"What is it, Liam?"

Liam hesitated, before glancing furtively in the direction Uren had gone and whispering.

"That kid you saw today, the one with magic... Do you really think he's that special? You were really worried about people finding out about him."

Kalem stared at him, tempted to reprimand him for breaking the agreement they'd voted on and speaking about the topic he was supposed to forget. At the same time though, he knew Liam was just curious, and it wouldn't hurt to tell him if he promised to keep quite. When Liam was asked to keep a secret, he would clam it up tighter than the high security vaults beneath the castle in Camelot.

He sighed, relenting and whispering back.

"I should have known you'd read me like a book. Yeah, I don't want him to be found, just promise me you won't tell any of this to _anyone_, not even anyone in the gang."

Liam nodded vigorously; he would keep it secret.

"Sure, I promise. So why did you do that?"

Kalem frowned a little, thinking about what he'd realised earlier.

"Nellan, as part of my magic lessons, taught me a really important prophesy and made me memorise it. He said that the time of it's beginning has already come, and that it's in motion. That a prince destined to be a great king, who will bring magic back to the land, has already been born and that somewhere so had the warlock destined to protect him. Just as the prince is destined to be the greatest of kings, the warlock is destined to be the greatest sorcerer to have ever lived. He must protect the prince until he can fulfil his destiny, or magic will never return to the land peacefully, and that bright kingdom will never come to be."

Liam stared at him, not sure what he was getting at.

"So what's this got to do with that kid?"

Kalem rolled his eyes, shaking his head where it lay on his makeshift pillow.

"Nellan also told me that there would be a handful of people who will be able to sense if someone is that special warlock... and I think I might be one of them." Liam went quite, while his friend rolled onto his back to look at fire-lit underside of the surrounding trees, Kalem's expression distant. "When he used his magic it was like something kicked me. Part of me wanted to run away in fear, while the other wanted to stand there in awe. The magic he did, it's not like mine. I have to really _think_ to do my magic, even my affinity, but what he did was so effortless it looked like he did it on nothing but instinct. Nellan's told me a lot about the different kinds of magic, and a kid that young doing magic like that just _doesn't_ fit. It he can do that now without breaking a sweat, then I can't start to imagine what he'll be able to do once he's grown up and actually _studied _sorcery. I think I might be scared to guess. I'm high Priest material, but I have the feeling that one day his magic is going to make mine look like nothing."

Liam blinked, wordless for several seconds, before rolling onto his back as well.

"If that's true, then I hope he really does help magic come back. Then you won't have to worry and hide anymore."

Kalem broke into a grin, the solemn atmosphere broken by their brotherly camaraderie. He ruffled Liam's hair vigorously, the younger boy's thoughts of powerful warlocks and prophesies broken.

"And you'll have to watch out when it does happen, because that means I won't have to go easy on you anymore." He stopped his teasing, pulling his blankets back up to his chin. "Get some rest Liam, because right now that's what I want to get back to doing."

Liam followed suit, rolling over to face away from his friend with a small snort.

"Fine, I wouldn't want to spoil your beauty sleep."

Kalem prodded him in the back for that, before rolling over as well. But he didn't go to sleep, his mind was too agitated to... Speaking to Liam had only reinforced the feelings from earlier, and he'd found himself wanting to confirm them.

He wanted to speak to that boy again, the boy whose name he hadn't and never would utter in anyone's presence, lest his risk him being discovered.

Merlin...

~(-)~

Blue eyes opened to look through tiny windows at the hint of false dawn in the skies outside, their owner having struggled to sleep with all the worries on his young mind.

Merlin climbed out of his narrow bed, careful not to wake his mother. He was still covered with dirt from yesterday, so he might as well go wash while there was no one about to bother him or ask why he'd been gone so long yesterday.

Heading for the door, he picked up the bucket that sat near it, reasoning that he would bring water back for his mother. He then crept out of the cottage, closing the door with care, before walking through the silent village while the first few notes of birdsong drifted on the cool air. It was quiet and peaceful, and he actually found himself starting to relax. This was just another day, and no one knew about his magic... No one except for his mother and the individual who had been watching and waiting for him to come to the well as he always did early each morning.

Merlin didn't even see him coming, only felt it when William slammed into him and knocked him flat.

The other boy stood over him, staring down in silence, neither of them speaking as fear seeped into Merlin's heart... Now he would find out what William thought...

~(-)~

**Alaia Skyhawk: Yep, cliffhanger XD**


	21. The Border Lands Boy 'Part 3

**Alaia Skyhawk: Ok, so this one is centring quite heavily on Kalem and Merlin instead of Liam, but that's because while this is an event where Liam was nearby and is in some ways affected by it, Liam isn't a major part of this. That's the thing about this story, while it does tell the path of Liam's life, it's also become about things and people who will one day affect or be part of his life :)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Merlin TV series etc, but I do own the star of this fic... LIAM!**

**Music: **

~(-)~

Chapter 21: The Border Lands Boy ~Part 3~

Two pairs of eyes stared into each other, one face expressionless while the other slowly changed to fear. No sound except that of the first morning birds broke the silence between the two young boys, not until William frowned and reached down to yank Merlin back to his feet.

He then punched him in the shoulder, and kicked him in the shins for good measure as he hissed quietly so no one in the village who might be awake would hear.

"You _jerk!_ Don't scare me by running off like that! I thought you'd hightailed it for good!"

Merlin stared, speechless, before finally stuttering.

"Y-you're not going to turn me in?"

Will shook his head vehemently, his expression showing he couldn't believe that Merlin would even _think_ he would.

"No, you're my best friend, and people who turn on their friends are worse than _scum_." He started to grin. "Besides, I think you having magic is great... It means you're not as much of a _wimp _as I thought you were."

Merlin gaped at him. William thought he was a wimp?

"_Hey!_"

Will put a hand on his shoulder, his eyes dancing with amusement at his tease.

"Don't worry about your secret, it's safe with me. Does your mom know?"

Merlin winced.

"She's known since I was less than a year old. I've been able to move things with my mind since before I'd even started learning to talk. She keeps telling me never to use my power, but it's hard not to. I keep doing things by accident, and it's just lucky no one has caught me."

Will folded his arms across his chest, tilting his head in puzzlement. Why would she be worried?

"Well it's not like magic is banned here anymore... King Cenrid has some sorcerer guy working for him, so it's not like he'd care."

Merlin took hold of Will's shoulder, shaking his head fearfully.

"Most of everyone in the village is still wary of magic since the ban only stopped here two years ago, and we have to keep this secret. My mother's afraid of Cenrid finding out about me almost as much as she is about King Uther finding out."

Will frowned, replying blandly.

"Yeah, one would probably make you a slave and the other would kill you."

"_Will!_"

William smiled.

"We'll keep it a secret, you and me." He then grimaced. "Oh, and you know those 'bandits' we ran into... They were travellers hunting for rabbits. That arrow nearly hitting us was just an accident."

Merlin winced.

"I kind of guessed that when I heard you shouting for me. Was the guy I threw ok?"

Will nodded.

"He got up and walked away just fine, and the kid who was with them seemed like a nice guy. He and his friends didn't care about you having magic either... Actually, that kid was the one who told me that people who betray their friends are less than scum."

Merlin went silent for a moment, thinking before looking at his friend.

"Did you see which way they went?"

Will pointed, confused as to why Merlin would ask.

"West... Why?"

Merlin picked up the bucket he'd dropped, starting to resume his walk towards the well.

"When I finish my chores later, I want to go say sorry for what I did."

"Then I'll come with you."

Merlin stopped, shaking his head as he glanced back at Will.

"No, I want to do this on my own. I need you to make sure no one notices I'm gone. Mom will scalp me if she finds out I went walking off into the woods again."

Will sighed, relenting and agreeing to the request.

"All right, I'll cover for you, but don't go for too long."

"Thanks."

Their whispered conversation was over, Merlin reassured that his life here wasn't going to change... Well, not by much... They headed for the village well in companionable silence. Things were going to be ok.

~(-)~

The leaves on the forest floor crunched beneath his footsteps, the young sorcerer not bothering to be quiet. He'd told everyone back in camp that he just wanted to go for a walk and practice his magic, something he occasionally did when he didn't want to be disturbed while doing so. Back when he was first learning to use 'fleoge', the gang members at that time had learned quickly that it was best to stay out of his way. A distracted novice sorcerer often resulted in things not going where they should.

Kalem smiled slightly at the memories, before that smile faded and more solemn thoughts returned. He'd gone south at first to get away from the camp, being certain that the nearby village didn't lie in that direction, but then he'd circled round to where he'd crossed paths with Merlin and his friend the day before. One plus to his life with the gang was that he'd quickly learned to track, and so while he lacked the magical means to locate the village, he was capable of using the boys' trail to find it.

Finding the point where the two of them had come charging out of the undergrowth, Kalem followed the weaving trail of disturbed leaves and occasional footprints back and forth for a good twenty minutes. It was around then that he caught glimpses of Ealdor through the trees and quickly moved to where he could observe the settlement.

He stood there, leaning against a tree where his brown travel cloak helped him to blend in. It only took a couple of minutes to spot Merlin and his friend in one of the fields, the latter holding a plough steady while the former urged the disinclined oxen hitched to it to keep walking. Kalem smiled at that sight, knowing it meant the two boys had spoken and come to terms with the knowledge that one of them had magic and the other now knew. He doubted Will had needed the nudge he'd given him yesterday, but it had forestalled any metal deliberation on the youngster's part and got him to go after his friend right away.

Kalem settled down to wait, knowing he could not approach Merlin while the boy was in sight of the village. He just had to hope the youngsters would go off to play in the woods again. It was shortly after noon that the chance came, the fourteen-year-old unable to believe his luck when a furtive Will gave some kind of signal to Merlin and the boy dashed westwards into the trees. His camp and the gang were west of the village, so Will must have told him which way they'd walked off the day before.

Kalem moved from his waiting spot, hurrying to intercept the young warlock now. He got ahead of him with ease, waiting behind a tree to let him catch up before stepping out into the open when the boy reached him.

Merlin skidded to a halt, so surprised by the sudden appearance of the other sorcerer that he stumbled and fell onto his rear.

Kalem smiled down at him.

"Hello... Merlin, was it? Your friend ran off shouting for you yesterday, after I explained the misunderstanding. Sorry about almost hitting you with that arrow."

Merlin stared at him, gaping, before scrambling to his feet.

"Was... Is your friend ok?"

Kalem nodded, chuckling.

"Yeah, just a bruised ego. After all, he was knocked flat by a kid less than _half _his age."

Merlin frowned a little, biting his lip with remembered shame.

"Can you take me to him? I want to apologise. I shouldn't have used my magic like that without thinking."

Kalem walked over to Merlin and put a hand on his shoulder to reassure him. In the moment he made physical contact he had to fight not to gasp, to remain composed. The power he could feel inside Merlin was unlike anything he'd ever experienced before. It was like a vast sleeping storm of magic, whose depths he could not begin to comprehend, and in that instant he knew for sure that Merlin _was _the one the prophecy spoke of. The one whose destiny it would be to protect the Once and Future King from the forces that would wish to destroy him.

He forced himself to smile to cover his moment of hesitation, to hide the pity he felt for the child beside him. This kid was only Liam's age, about nine years old, and he had no idea what hardship his future had in store for him.

"There's no need, I told everyone to just forget about you and not mention it again. None of us would want people to hear about you, especially not people like Cenrid or Uther. You don't need to worry. Give it a couple of months and most of them will have forgotten about you. We have an eventful sort of life as a group. It makes odd things in the past disappear behind everything else, unless you actually make the effort to remember them."

Merlin looked up at the taller boy in surprise.

"Why do that for me? Why do you care?"

Kalem gave him a long look.

"Because we have something in common." He gestured at the leaves on the ground around them, summoning a breeze and making them swirl upwards in a spiral before letting them fall. "My friends know I have magic, but they don't care. I'm still me, even if I can make things catch fire." He snorted. "Actually they _like_ that... It's always me who lights our campfires when the wood is wet, and a lot of the times when it isn't too."

He sat down on a nearby log, patting it to indicate that Merlin sit beside him. The boy did, now a lot more relaxed and a lot more curious about this stranger who could also use magic.

"Where did you learn to do that?"

Kalem looked at him sidelong.

"A druid came across me a little while after I first found out I could use magic, and he gave me some pieces of paper with five spells written on them. He told me that once I'd mastered all five, he'd tell me some more. He's a friend of the gang I hang around with. We're all people who ended up with nowhere to go, so we banded together as a family and now look after each other. It's not exactly a normal life, but it's better than being alone." He raised his eyebrows a little. "So I'm guessing your friend spoke to you. The two of you seemed to be alright when I was watching you earlier. I came to check if you were all right, just in case he'd told your village about you and you needed some help."

Merlin winced.

"I didn't go home until it was getting dark, and Mom told me off really bad. Will snuck up on me this morning when I went to the well, and told me off too for running away." He started to smile, cheering up. "But he's going to keep my secret, and he thinks me having magic is great."

Kalem smiled, putting a hand on Merlin's shoulder.

"And that's all you need, a friend. Just remember, magic isn't good or bad. What it is is what you make it. If you use magic for good, for protecting the people around you, then you have _nothing_ to be ashamed of. But if you use it to hurt people, to gain power over them or just to be nasty... then you deserve whatever punishment you might face if you're caught. I know it's a scary thing for me to say, but it's true. Using magic for good things won't protect you from people like King Uther, but at least if he were to catch and execute you, you'd die knowing you never did anything wrong with it. Better to go down with a clear conscience, than go down hating the world like so many other sorcerers have done."

Merlin frowned, looking at his hands.

"Do you ever think magic will be accepted again?"

Kalem froze at that comment, before thoughtfully eyeing the boy beside him.

"I don't know, but I do know that _I_ want to show the world what magic truly means and what it's really meant for. You never know, maybe you can help with that some day."

Merlin grinned at him, his blue eyes full of enthusiasm for the idea.

"Do you really think so?"

Kalem nodded, a small knowing glint in his eyes.

"Some people are destined for great things, while others' destinies are only small... But even so, those with small destinies can still make a difference."

Merlin stood up, now far more confident than when he'd first arrived.

"Thanks, and sorry again about the accident. I'll make sure to be more careful from now on."

Kalem got up as well, folding his arms across his chest.

"Be sure that you do... because I want to see what kind of difference _you'll _make to the world." He sighed, preparing to go. "I should get back to camp. We're leaving and heading back home today."

Merlin nodded and turned, waving as he trotted off back to his village.

"Then I guess I'll see you around someday."

Kalem waved farewell and watched him hurry through the trees, waiting until he was almost out of sight before murmuring quietly.

"I hope so... You've got a long hard road ahead of you, Emrys."

~(-)~

The two boys walked side-by-side down the furrows across the field, sowing seeds while the warlock of the two of them murmured both quietly but also with enthusiasm.

"That kid who was with those two men yesterday. He has magic too! He was waiting out in the woods, trying to see if things had worked out ok for me, and spoke to me when I went to look for his friends to apologise."

Will raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"So _that's _why you weren't gone long. I was wondering why you came back so quick. What magic did he show you?"

Merlin grinned, miming the gesture Kalem had made using the hand not carrying a basket of seeds.

"He made some wind pick up leaves from the grounds and carry them up into the air. It was great."

The boy beside him sighed, disappointed.

"I wish I could have seen it. Do you think _you_ could do it?"

Merlin glanced at him, before shaking his head.

"I don't think so. I could move _one_ leaf, maybe two or three, but I can't make wind pick lots up. The only thing I can do it move things. I don't know any spells, and I don't think I'll get to learn any, any time soon."

This time both of them sighed, William muttering dejectedly.

"Well I guess that's that then. You'll just have to wait and hope you get to learn proper magic later. Did that guy tell you his name? Maybe you could find him and get him to teach you when we're old enough to leave Ealdor."

Merlin went quiet, before slowly turning his head to look at Will.

"...I forgot to ask him..."

Will pointed to the trees.

"Then go look for him again while you have the chance. There's still time I can cover for you."

Merlin shook his head.

"I can't, because he said he had to get back because they're heading home today. They've probably already gone."

Both of them went quiet, both of them disappointed that the chance had been lost. William then resumed his sowing.

"Well he knows _your_ name, so maybe he'll find you."

"Yeah, maybe."

The two of them resumed their chore, while off in the woods the gang were on their way.

~(-)~

The gang walked eastwards, heading for where the brighter, thinner woodlands that covered most of the land gave way to the dense and secretive vales of the Forest of Ascetir. It was strange to think most maps didn't show that almost all the low-lying areas were covered with at least patches and bands of trees, only the high hills, the mountains, and the moors did not boast trees. Instead those areas were left blank, and only the dense woodlands appeared on the maps.

Kalem mused to himself about that fact, a failed attempt to distract himself from thoughts of the young warlock back in the village behind them.

"I'm sure he'll be ok, Kalem."

The sorcerer flinched at those murmured words, looking down at Liam who walked beside him. He then smiled, lifting a hand to ruffle the boy's blond hair.

"Thanks, and yeah, I think he will be. He does have a big destiny, after all... I can't see it ending before it even really begun. We're going to big things from him."

Liam expression was one of wonder and curiosity, as he nudged his friend and whispered.

"What was his name?"

Kalem smiled secretively.

"I'll tell you once both of you are older. It's no fun if I tell you all my secrets."

Liam pouted at him, before sighing in resignation. It was Kalem's way of saying, I'm not going to tell you what you don't need to know, and he knew he wasn't going to get anything else out of him.

The two of them walked on, following the rest of their friends from the gang, heading home before they would resume their thieving ways to survive the year ahead.

~(-)~

**Alaia Skyhawk: The bit in this between Kalem and Merlin is quite touching; Merlin getting his first pep talk about magic, and it's ironic what Kalem said to him. "Some people are destined for great things, while others' destinies are only small... But even so, those with small destinies can still make a difference." Merlin might have thought Kalem would have a big destiny, and that his would be small, when in fact Kalem said what he did knowing that things were the other way around. That Merlin would surpass him in every way, and that he himself would only ever be a fringe player destined to be forgotten by history.**


	22. Finding a New Home 'Part 1'

**Alaia Skyhawk: Time skip number two :)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Merlin TV series etc, but I do own the star of this fic... LIAM!**

**Music: **

~(-)~

Chapter 22: Finding a New Home ~Part 1~

Spring... It's an interesting time of year. Full of new beginnings, a time to head out on new journeys now that the harshness of winter is over... It also marked the start of the new season of raids.

Hargren frowned, pouring over the reports from both the garrison here in Ulwin, and the garrison near Rillen. King Cenrid, while he had made no declaration of war, had continued his campaign of sending groups of thugs into Ulwin's lands in the guise of raiders. To think it had been almost five years now since that first attack which had devastated Rillen and Tadoras, and in the time since then three more villages deeper into Camelot's lands had occurred. It had become obvious that Cenrid had noticed the gap in the border defences south of Rillen, in the area just north of the Forest of Ascetir.

He needed to block that gap, before any more damage was done. Cenrid needed to learn that Camelot would not stand by and ignore his underhanded tactics.

Lord Hargren sighed, running a hand through his greying hair. He had managed to safeguard the trade that ran through Ulwin, but he could not deny that even with the extra men assigned to him by Uther, he was finding it hard to protect the more vulnerable areas at the southern extent of his lands. He needed another fortress, somewhere close to or on the edge of the northern tip of the Forest of Ascetir. Only that would solve the problem.

Getting to his feet, the lord left his study and began the walk through his manor. His estate had changed somewhat in these five years, in that the eastern side of it had been walled off to become a larger and better-equipped garrison than the small internal one he'd had before. From there, a new defensive wall reached south and encircled the town that previously hadn't required one.

He headed to that garrison now, via the gate in the inner perimeter wall between it and the small estate farms that supplied part of what was needed by the castle inhabitants. He had avoided this course of action up until now, but he couldn't ignore it any longer... It was a case of weighing the fates of one small group, versus those of all the other people in Camelot.

He arrived at the office of the garrison commander, not bothering to knock as he entered. The knight looked up at him when he came in, rising to his feet and nodding in respect.

"Lord Hargren. What brings you here, and how might I be of service?"

Hargren went to the map that was hung on the wall to the left, pointing to the very northern tip of the Forest of Ascetir.

"It is clear that the Rillen Garrison cannot adequately defend that area on it's own... I've done some research, and found mention of an old castle located somewhere here. I want you to send a force of men to locate it, and if it exists, to secure it and send word back. We lack the finances right now to build another fortress, but repairing an abandoned one is within our present means."

The commander frowned.

"But, My Lord, if you spread your forces between three garrisons instead of two, you will have little left to cover internal affairs."

"I am aware of that, Commander."

The knight winced at Hargren's reprimand, bowing his head in apology before heading for the door.

"I will arrange it at once, and begin organising the redistribution of Ulwin's forces."

"I will leave it to you, then." Lord Hargren remained where he was as the knight left the room, before grimly looking to the place on the map where he'd pointed. "I know I had an unspoken agreement with you, Gavin, but times change. I have no choice but to take that castle from you."

He turned and left the room, heading back to the manor with a heavy heart. As Lord of Ulwin, and a vassal of Camelot, he had to put the welfare of the kingdom as a whole, first.

~(-)~

Lillian smiled from where she stood at the hearth, looking over to where her husband leaned over the cradle he had built and the tiny life that lay inside it.

Alan reached into the crib, lifting out the gurgling bundle that was his two-month-old son, Luke. Becoming a father had been almost surreal, and it had immediately awakened some old pains now that he knew the joy that being a father could bring.

How could his father have left them, when the love a parent feels for their child could be as strong and wonderful as this?

He carried Luke over to the table, cradling him in his arms until Lillian set a plate of food in front of him. That was when she lifted their son from his arms, still smiling as she sat down opposite him.

"You need to get that eaten. If you spend all day fussing over your son, you're not going to get any work done. You've delayed some of your commissions for weeks as it is."

Her tone was playful, but the serious side was there as well. It was true, he couldn't delay some of them any longer or risk them being cancelled. Smiling as she began to hum to the baby in her arms, Alan ate his food before getting up from his seat. He placed a kiss on her forehead before making his way to the door, glancing back after picking up a pouch of coins that had arrived at his workshop this morning.

"Don't spend too much time fussing over him either. You've still got candles to make to fill _your_ commissions."

Lillian just smiled at him, using her free hand to make shooing gestures towards the door. Chuckling at her reaction, he did as bidden and went outside, walking down the street towards the main thoroughfare through the town.

When he reached it, his smile faded, the carpenter backing up to stand against the front wall of one of the buildings. A force of around thirty soldiers, led by a knight, were making their way from the manor and out of the town. It was rare to see a troop of this size heading out looking that solemn, when usually it would be bands of around ten, smiling and talking among themselves as they headed out to relieve some of their fellows from the fort at Rillen. This was something different, something that made him hesitate to go where he had been about to.

He remained against the wall until they were almost out of sight, pushing aside those doubts and making his way to the tavern. The seeker he'd hired had arrived yesterday, to see if he wished to continue having them search for his brother. He'd told them yes, and then sent word to Hargren about it. The lord had then, as agreed, had the money to pay the seeker dropped off at the workshop.

He couldn't, and wouldn't back out of it now.

Alan entered the tavern, emerging a few minutes later with the task done. This seeker was the latest of several he'd hired, all of them eventually tiring of searching for child most likely dead, even if it _was_ easy money. But that wasn't why he'd hesitated. No, his doubts stemmed from the changes in Ulwin, in Camelot. This town, while still prosperous, now existed in the shadow of its new walls, in the shadow of the garrison and the one at Rillen. This was now dangerous border country, set alongside lands now ruled by a power hungry and ruthless tyrant. It was only a matter of time before Cenrid tired of his petty raids and attempted something far bigger.

Could he, Alan, really warrant staying here? Did he want to risk the lives of his wife and son, all for the sake of looking for someone who, after almost five years with no word or sign, was almost certainly dead?

Walking through the town in the direction of his workshop, Alan wasn't sure anymore. But he would wait until the seeker returned again in three months time, and make his decision then...

~(-)~

"I've never said this before, but I'm saying it now, Kalem... You are _completely crazy!_"

Jarl stood staring at the sixteen-year-old sorcerer, his arms folded across his chest and his expression mirroring his statement. He was twenty years old now, considered a true adult within the gang, but as the youngest of the adults he was still stuck supervising the 'kids'.

Katia and Liam sat on the crumbled masonry near him; the four friends perched up high on the old castle's outer wall. Just a short way away from them stood Kalem, tying himself into the crude rope harness of the kite he'd made from branches and a big piece of canvas.

He grinned at Jarl, tying the last few knots without the slightest doubts about what he was about to do.

"You're just jealous because you don't have the guts to try this."

Jarl snorted.

"You mean I have the brains _not_ to try it. If you smear yourself across the ground out there, don't blame me."

Kalem rolled his eyes.

"Oh ye of little faith, behold the wonders of magic. People say that men aren't meant to fly... Time to prove them wrong!"

With a whoop he broke into a run, jumping up onto the rim of the wall and throwing himself and his kite off it. He immediately started to plummet downwards, Liam shouting in worry.

"Kalem!"

"_Aer frice to me gewill!_"

The sorcerer's shout was carried up to them by the sudden gust of wind he'd summoned, the spell being one he'd pestered Nellan to help him create. The enchantment would, for a short time, allow him to use his elemental affinity without being over drained by it, and it meant that Kalem had finally been in a situation to do this.

He soared upwards on that gust, grinning down at them when he sailed up past them. He then wordlessly twisted his summoned winds, circling above the castle until he felt his spell wear off.

Reluctantly he let the kite drift downwards, using one last gust of wind to land it before untying the harness. He then carried the kite back up to the wall, smirking at Jarl when he got to where his friends were sat.

Jarl regarded him with bemusement, before rolling his eyes and shaking his head.

"I still think you're crazy."

Kalem just sighed at the older youth's stubbornness, until a tug on his sleeve prompted him to look at the eleven-year-old now stood beside him.

Liam looked up at him hopefully, before tugging on one of the ropes of the harness.

"Can I have a go?"

Ignoring Jarl when the young man jolted at that request, Kalem grinned and nodded, starting to tie both himself and Liam to the kite.

"Sure! You won't _believe_ the view from up there."

Within a minute the two of them were high up in the air, shrieking and whooping beneath the kite as it danced about on ensorcelled winds. Neither they nor any of those in the castle aware of what would soon march down the old road towards their home.

~(-)~

**Alaia Skyhawk: There you go. I'll see about posting the next bit tomorrow :)**


	23. Finding a New Home 'Part 2'

**Alaia Skyhawk: NEXT CHAPTER!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Merlin TV series etc, but I do own the star of this fic... LIAM!**

**Music: **

~(-)~

Chapter 23: Finding a New Home ~Part 2~

It was the sound of the approaching force that reached them first, the distant clatter of armour and the sound of whickering horses. It was Ril who spotted them, on his way back from hunting game with Uren. The two of them immediately broke into a run, taking a shortcut through the forest to the castle and shouting at the top of their lung when they got there.

"Soldiers on the road! They're heading for the castle!"

Gavin was already on his feet when they came charging into the main hall, striding to meet them with a deep frown on his face.

"How many?"

Uren, his expression grim, was the one to give the answer.

"About thirty, and they're being led by a Knight of Camelot. They're armed, of course, but they're moving more like a search party than an attack force. They're not trying to be stealthy."

Gavin looked between the two men, who like Kalem had been a part of it from the beginning.

"How long until they get here?"

Ril frowned, not happy at all.

"Five, maybe ten minutes. They're not riding fast but we didn't exactly have much distance to get a head start over them."

The two of them waited for their leader to speak again, Gavin remaining silent before shouting out so that everyone in the hall would hear him clearly.

"I want two archers above the gate! Ril, you be one of them. Uren, I want you to prepare the doors of the castle to be barred, and set up a defence line inside them with everyone else. Kalem, you're with me."

Everyone scrambled to do as instructed; Liam and Katia told in no uncertain terms that they were to stay in the hall. When they tried to complain, and to come help, the rest of the gang locked them in to keep them out of trouble. The gang lived as a family, and that meant the youngest had to be kept safe.

It was barely five minutes after the warning was received that the gang were waiting in readiness. Ril was above the gate with their other best archer, a woman called Kay, Gavin and Kalem stood either side of it while just inside the castle behind them, Uren and the eight remaining adults stood ready. If it came down to a fight, the two archers would cover Gavin and Kalem's retreat before circling round the walls to enter the castle from the back.

They waited in tense silence, watching as the force from Ulwin rode into sight. They could see them talking, about the castle if their gestures were any indication, but they didn't move until the knight leading them came within thirty yards of the gate. It was just a pity the portcullis was broken, or the gang would have just closed it before they arrived.

Gavin stepped into view within the gave, Kalem remaining out of sight but prepared to subtly deflect arrows astray should any be fired at him. The man then folded his arms across his chest, and glowered at the soldiers.

"What business do you have here?"

The knight who led the force tensed, his eyes moving to glance at the two archers now aiming at him from above the gate. Ril and Kay hadn't actually drawn their bows, but to do that and fire wouldn't take them longer than a heartbeat.

He returned his gaze to Gavin, wary but confident.

"I and my men were sent forth by Lord Hargren, to search for an abandoned castle spoken of in some of the old records. It is needed as a defensive position along the border, to prevent any further raids sent by King Cenrid from penetrating into Camelot's lands."

Gavin's eyes narrowed at that. Spoken of in old records? He knew it was nonsense, just a cover for having never said anything before. He _knew_ Hargren had had knowledge of this castle for almost a decade, and that he knew the gang used it as their home.

His scowl deepened, his stand unmoving.

"This castle belongs to us. If he has a problem with that, then he needs to come speak with us himself."

The knight remained silent for a moment, before lifting his chin in a slightly smug and haughty manner.

"Of course, if you can provide proof that you and your fellows have lawful right to this castle, then by all means I'm sure Lord Hargren will see to it that you are compensated for it."

Every member of the gang, who could hear him, stiffened at that remark, Gavin's scowl turning into a furious stare.

"Right? You want us to prove our _right _to be here? This place was a complete _wreck _when we found it! We've been here for _six _years, and turned this place into our home!"

The knight signalled to his men, who dismounted from their horses and formed a line of overlapping shields. Even at close range, the bows wielded by Ril and Key did not posses the power to pierce that barricade, and the knight knew it.

"I'm afraid this castle lies on Camelot's lands. The border must be defended, and to ignore a castle such as this would not be forgiven by the king. If you cannot prove you have lawful right to it, then no matter how long you have lived here I must, by the orders given to me by Lord Hargren, ask that you and companions _leave_. If you do not, we will evict you force if need be."

Hands went to swords, the silence tense and nigh unbearable. They were outnumbered two-to-one, and yet Gavin was clearly considering fighting them. Kalem watched as his hand slowly moved towards his sword, before the sixteen-year-old stepped from his hiding place and grabbed the man's arm before he could do anything rash.

Gavin turned his head to glare at the sorcerer, but Kalem just stared back before leaning close and turning his head so the knight and soldiers would have no chance to try read his lips.

"If we fight them fairly, we'll lose... If I were to back the gang up with my _full _skills, we'd win but we'd only bring more trouble down on us if any of them got away to alert Uther... I _won't_ fight them, Gavin. I won't _slaughter _them with my power. Hargren has been more than fair to us since the gang was founded, he could have had us routed out long ago, but he didn't. We should just leave. We managed the four years before we found this place, and we'll manage again. He wouldn't have sent his men here if it wasn't necessary."

Gavin gritted his teeth, knowing full well that without Kalem's magic to back them up, there was no chance of victory against the knight and his men. His fury at this situation was clear to see in his eyes when Kalem let go of him, and he reluctantly spoke to the knight and declared their surrender of the castle.

"We'll leave, without a fight, but only on the condition that you and your men permit us to gather our belongings and supplies without being harassed. We're losing our home as it is. We don't need you to rub our faces in it." He turned and stalked towards the castle entrance, shouting to the gang. "Get inside and start packing! Ril! Kay! Get the handcart and move it to the side door! I want what's left of our winter supplies loaded into it! Everyone else, grab what's useful and whatever else we can use that you can carry! I want us out of here by noon!"

Kalem remained where he was for a moment, the force from Ulwin moving in to settle just inside the gate. It was then that he felt a hand on his shoulder, the knight regarding him with a moderate degree of respect.

"If I didn't know better, I'd have said _you_ were the leader here and not him. You've certainly got more sense."

Kalem jerked his shoulder out from under the man's grip, directing a glare at him before muttering.

"Gavin is, and always will be, the leader of our group. I'm just the voice of reason when emotion starts to cloud his judgement." He lifted his chin; almost in imitation of the knight's own haughty expression from a few minutes before. "It's not uncommon for leaders to get touchy when something they don't like strays into their territory. What makes them a good or a bad leader is if they listen the people who stand as their advisors. Gavin listens, and that's why we're not walking out of here with our tails between our legs, but with our heads held high. We go with _dignity_ and _honour_."

The knight almost gaped at the obvious play on the Knight's Code, but did not pick up on Kalem's hidden jibe at Uther's hatred of magic. He simply stared for a moment as the boy walked away, before turning to his men and barking out his orders while pointing at several of them.

"You, you, and you! Assist these people in loading their supplies into their cart. You, ride back to the fort at Rillen and have word sent to Lord Hargren that we have found and secured the castle. Everyone else, make yourselves useful and start a search of the castle and the grounds. I want a full report of the condition of the defences and the structure before the day's end!"

"Yes, sir!"

Kalem snorted to himself when he heard those orders, knowing full well that the knight had only told some of his men to help them to save face. If he hadn't, then he would have made himself look like an honourless bastard in front of his men... He was such a hypocrite, but then the majority of nobles were. They only went out of their way to help when it suited them. Still, it was a small victory for the gang, even if it wouldn't ease the bitter taste of defeat that would come with losing their home.

He entered the great hall to find that Liam had already packed up much of both their things, rightly picking our furs over blankets as being the best to carry when you had to choose one or the other. One small bit of luck was that the gang had been preparing to head out on a thieving trip, meaning that travelling gear was already packed. What remained was to grab everything else they could comfortably carry, but even so they would be forced to leave a lot behind.

When he arrived at their sleeping area, grabbing the shallow box that contained his now larger collection of spell manuscripts and tucking it inside his clothing, Liam glanced at him and murmured quietly.

"You told Gavin to give them the castle, didn't you. But with you helping everyone, we could have driven them away."

Kalem stopped what he was doing, letting out a sigh before facing the younger boy. His tone was stern as he spoke, almost scolding Liam for his lack of thought for consequences.

"If I had driven them off, they would have reported back to King Uther that our gang has a sorcerer, and the king would have sent an _army_ at us to get at me. He'd have wiped us _all_ out. The only other solution to surrendering the castle would be for me to kill them, Liam." He put at hand on his friend's shoulder, frowning almost bleakly. "Remember, Liam, that magic is meant to be used to _protect_. If I had murdered all those soldiers, then I would be no better than those who abuse their magic for the sake of power or revenge. If there had been no chance of us walking away from here peacefully, _then_ I would have used it because there would have been no other choice except death. But we _had_ the choice, which means I couldn't ignore it. If I had, and we'd killed off all those men, I'd have their blood on my hands for the rest of my life."

Liam looked at the floor, ashamed and apologetic, before looking up again and nodding.

"You're right. I'm sorry, Kalem."

The sorcerer ruffled the boy's blond hair, smiling slightly.

"It's fine. The other reason we're best off with this path is that people would have come looking for those men. It wouldn't have taken long for Uther and Hargren to realise someone down here was killing off their soldiers. There really is no other way, if we want to get out of here alive."

The conversation ended, the gang gathering the last of their things before assembling on the battered road outside the castle walls. While a few of them jeered at the knight and his men, making rude gestures as well as insults, Kalem made sure that he and Liam walked ahead of the handcart with their heads held high, leading the way eastwards as had been decided.

There was one other who walked in silence, that individual being the gang's leader, but what Kalem failed to notice was the intense resentment and anger that smouldered in the man's eyes. Most of that anger was directed at the knight, Lord Hargren, and Camelot in general, but it could not be denied that some of it was directed at the sorcerer.

If Kalem had acted with his magic, they'd have overthrown Hargren's men with ease, but instead they were walking away in defeat. It was something that rankled with him deeply, and destroyed the almost fatherly way he'd viewed the boy up until now... Now, Kalem was merely an asset to the gang, someone to guard them against the monsters that roamed much of the land. He meant nothing else to him now, but there was on individual he disliked more. The man who had betrayed the agreement for which the gang's strict code of conduct had been founded. The man who had stepped on them and driven them away when that agreement no longer suited him. The man who ruled the lands of Ulwin in King Uther's stead.

Lord Hargren...

~(-)~

There was no sense of achievement when he read the report. No sense of having done something worth being satisfied in. Instead he felt only regret, and a shadow of guilt for what he'd done even though he knew there'd been no other choice.

Lord Hargren set down the report, sent from the now commandeered castle just within the northern edge of the Forest of Ascetir. The castle was his now, but it brought him no pleasure or joy. The only thing he could do now was make the best use of it possible, in the hope of somehow atoning for the self imposed crime of forcing those who lived there, out of their home. It was the only thing he could do, short of hope that Gavin would bring his group northwards towards. If they did, then as Lord of Ulwin he would do his best to see them settled elsewhere, but if they did not, then he could only pray they find safe harbour somewhere else.

It was never easy being a leader, especially if you were one who refused cut aside all emotion. Those who led without empathy, more often than not became figures of hatred for those they ruled over. It was a lesson he'd never let himself forget, and which his friend Uther never seemed to want to learn. But it was also a lesson that made these hard decisions even harder to make, and he knew the guilt he felt for this one would remain with him for a long time to come.

~(-)~

**Alaia Skyhawk: Gavin is pissed off, REALLY pissed off, and Hargren is beating himself up over the whole thing. If it weren't for the fact I know things have to be like this for the plot, I'd drag Gavin to Ulwin, stick him in front of Hargren, and verbally beat some sense into him.**

**Unfortunately, that's never going to happen (sighs)**


	24. Finding a New Home 'Part 3'

**Alaia Skyhawk: Just to clear things up, everything Gavin does from now on is because he views what happened with the castle as Lord Hargren betraying the unofficial agreement they shared (Not that they ever spoke face-to-face. It's more that they just realised that neither side wanted to hurt people, and just wanted to survive or look after their people respectively). As for his new resentment against Kalem, that's definitely going to simmer.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Merlin TV series etc, but I do own the star of this fic... LIAM!**

**Music: Silence (From Shadow of the Colossus OST)**

~(-)~

Chapter 24: Finding a New Home ~Part 3~

They looked like a band of refugees, and to be quite honest that was technically what they could be considered. Unfortunately that had not worked in their favour, not within Cenrid's lands at least.

The gang settled down to rest on a stream bank, battered and bruised from a recent run in with a group of bandits. The bandits hadn't really stood a chance once Kalem had stepped forward with his magic, but even so the fact they'd been so loaded with bags had delayed them in getting their weapons drawn. Everyone had either scrapes or minor cuts, and for once they were only getting minimal treatment... Cut off from their regular contact with the Druids, the gang could no longer count on a regular supply of medicines. They were going to have to save what they had left for serious wounds.

Liam eyed what was left in their bag of medicines and bandages, his expression grim. They were supposed to have been getting the herbs for the Druids, on this thieving run which had now become an exodus. Even if they went and bought them, the Druids would have moved to the southern and more dangerous parts of the Forest of Ascetir, to get away from now military occupied castle. Everything was a mess, and there wasn't a single person in the gang who knew anything about making remedies. When this lot ran out, they would have no choice but to pay the extortionate prices of the best physicians, or make do with the basic stuff from the common garden village doctors.

He glanced over to their leader, who sat by their campfire cleaning a cut on his arm with a rag.

"Gavin, why are we going into Cenrid's lands? Wouldn't it have been safer to stay in Camelot? At least until we..."

His words were cut off into silence when Gavin glared at him, with a darkness of expression that Liam had never seen him show before. Immediately fearful, he averted his eyes and hunched his shoulders, as if trying to hide from that stare.

Kalem noticed the exchange, frowning, and moved to put an arm protectively around their youngest member.

"We're all tired, and all upset by losing the castle, but that's no reason to take it out on each other. To be honest, I think Liam's right. Coming into these lands, when we're loaded down like this, was a mistake. We should turn around and head for the area around Ulwin."

"We go back to Camelot, when I _say_ we go back." Gavin rose slowly to his feet, his glare now directed at Kalem. "If you think we're going to go _begging_ to that bastard who ordered our home be taken, then you'd best think again."

The sorcerer could only watch as their leader stormed away through the trees, and glancing around at the other adults in the group he was concerned to realise that no one showed any signs of disagreeing with him. Were they all stupid? Didn't they realise what he did, that Hargren obviously had had no choice but to take the castle for Camelot's defence? Didn't they realise that if only they went to Ulwin, he would almost _certainly_ do what he could to find them some place else? What made it worse was that a couple of them had begun to sink into the same anger that was crawling its way into Gavin.

Gavin's rage was poisoning his mind and his heart, and in turn he was poisoning those of the gang who were too weak of heart to question it.

Kalem frowned. While he was no pacifist like the Druids, he'd learnt enough of their ways of thinking from Nellan to know that things were turning sour within the gang. If things didn't pick up, if the hate didn't give way to reason, then this group was going to turn into the very sort of brigands they'd spent the past ten years despising.

He sighed, tightening his grip on Liam's shoulders and murmuring in his ear.

"Don't listen to him, Liam. Remember that Lord Hargren has always strived to be as fair as circumstances let him be. But even he has to put the lives of many before the fate of a few. We just happened to be the 'few' this time around, which means there's no justice in blaming him for something he couldn't avoid. All we can do is make the best of things, and start again."

Liam leaned into that comforting hold, putting his trust in the one who had been a brother to him. As for Kalem, he could only hold to the silent promise he'd made. He would protect Liam from Gavin, and from the gang if things turned bad, and he would also do his best to shield Katia and Jarl, who were the only others who seemed torn between following him or following Gavin.

It would be all too easy to blame Lord Hargren for this shattering of old bonds, but he wasn't going to do that. If their extended family broke apart because of this, they would only have themselves to blame for not trusting and believing in each other.

~(-)~

It had only been a week, but progress was already being made on repairing the road, the castle it led to now bustling with both soldiers and also civilian craftsmen drafted in to restore it to combat readiness.

Hargren hid his sigh of regret as he gazed at the old castle, eyes coming to rest on the remains of what looked like an oversized kite lying outside the walls. It had been piled along with everything the gang had been unable to take, all of it to be burned since it was of no use to the soldiers. That pile was the sum remainder of the evidence they had lived here, and soon it would be nothing but ash.

The lord entered the castle to begin his inspection, the weight of guilt still on his mind. Every step was a reminder of what he'd done, what was too late now to change, and only time would tell if it had been worth it. To see those remains from the previous inhabitants truly jarred his conscience, but he could not show it. To pity a group of thieves would not be seen favourably by either the knights in his service, or the king who had assigned them to him.

Walking through the damp corridors, he instead set his mind now to how best to set this castle up as a fort. What number of men could hold it? How large an area would they patrol? Once that was decided, the supplies needed to support those men would have to be calculated, the costs worked out to see if his treasury could afford it. Running two garrisons was already expensive, even though the pay of most of the soldiers was supplied by King Uther, running a third would require him to make cuts elsewhere.

Lord Hargren frowned at the thought, wondering if he might be able to request financial help from Uther. But no, he couldn't risk asking, not yet. Only after doing his best without that aid could he reasonably ask for it. It was quite possible he could manage without it if he arranged things properly.

His mind now churning over all that needed to be done, he continued to walk around the castle before rejoining his escort and setting off back to Ulwin. He had a lot of work to do, which meant his feelings of guilt would now have to wait until later.

~(-)~

The camp was quiet, the general air hanging over it one of depression and resentment. They'd managed to find a town to buy supplies with their leftover coins from last year, and even some half-decent medicines, but it had done nothing to improve the mood. Much of the more remote towns and villages, in the region closest to the border with Camelot, were poor. Traditionally the gang would go deeper, to the richer province at the heart of the kingdom, but Gavin didn't seem to be interested. Instead he and Uren had come back last night with a bag of coins and nothing to say, but Kalem wasn't blind.

There had be a small smudge of blood on one of Gavin's boots, consistent with a splatter from a downward sword swing, quickly wiped away with a rag before it could dry... The leader of the gang had attacked someone for money, and while in the past they would only do that to bandits and Cenrid's soldiers, he didn't think it was this time.

Uren had showed no actual objection, but he hadn't looked very comfortable either. Something had happened, something that didn't completely sit right with him.

Kalem glanced over at their leader, watching through narrowed eyes as he feigned sleep. He'd know Gavin for over ten years, since just before the founding of the gang, and he knew something that no one bar him, Uren, and Ril knew... Before they'd created their code, their rules of conduct about who could be stolen from and who could not, things had been a lot different. Far from being altruistic and honourable, as he'd acted since that day, Gavin had a darker side and a darker past he never showed and never mentioned. And now, Kalem could see that side rising back to the surface.

He closed his eyes, biting on the edge of his lip in concern, not wanting to believe it but unable to deny what was happening. Gavin, who had created their code out of respect for Lord Hargren, had cast it aside now that he believed the lord had betrayed them. All bets were off, and while he wasn't being open about it now, Gavin might well return fully to his old ways.

And if he did, then he would find his sorcerer cutting ties with him... There was no way that he, Kalem, was going to stay and keep Liam among people who had become the very kind that had murdered the kid's family. That was the way it was going to be, but he would give Gavin a chance for now. He would stay until there was no turning back for the man. Only then would he walk away.

Kalem rolled over beneath his blankets, eyes moving to gaze at the boy sleeping beside him. Liam had gone through horrors enough in his past, and he didn't need the people who'd rescued him from them to add to them instead. There was a point in every shadowed path where things couldn't be ignored anymore, and you had to make a stand.

~(-)~

**Alaia Skyhawk: Yeah, this one was short, but I didn't want to take material from the next section and put it in here... because then that one would have been too short. Not to mention the next bit is set a few months after this XD**


	25. The Start of the Fall 'Part 1'

**Alaia Skyhawk: The name of this one says it all...**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Merlin TV series etc, but I do own the star of this fic... LIAM!**

**Music: Creeping Shadow (Shadow of the Colossus OST)**

~(-)~

Chapter 25: The Start of the Fall ~Part 1~

They felt no thrill at hearing the shouts of the guards, no sense of gleeful challenge, as they would have back in Camelot's lands.

Liam and Kalem sprinted through the streets of the town, several soldiers belonging to King Cenrid hot on their heels. Liam had never been part of thieving runs in these lands before, and the sorcerer had only been twice but never this deep into the territory. It was a stark contrast to Camelot, where guards would just catch you and take you to be sentenced to time on the farms on in the mines. Here in these lands the guards did only one thing to thieves if they caught them.

The two boys were _literally_ running for their lives...

Both of them darted around a corner, taking another sharp turn into an alley and vanishing from sight. When the guards charged through the narrow passage to follow them, all remained silent and still until a small box at the edge of a pile of broken crates began to move. It wasn't even large enough to hide an infant, never mind two boys, which was why it had been ignored, but a grubby hand pushed it aside and revealed its secret, a hole just big enough to squeeze through which led into a slightly larger space beneath the floor of the adjacent house.

Kalem peered out to check the coast was clear, before pulling the box back into place. Liam had had no trouble dropping through the hole, but _he'd _scraped the skin on his arms as had happened several times since the gang had begun working the town. What made it worse was that the gang's code of conduct was practically gone, with only he, Liam, Jarl, and Katia still following it to the letter. Some of the others had been on the tipping point, wavering as to which way to go, but that had changed a week ago when Kay died.

She'd pushed her luck when trying to steal from an unwatched guard post, or so she'd thought. Most of the hideaways the gang had in this town were barely big enough for the seventeen-year-old but still slender Kalem to get into, so Kay hadn't stood a chance. She'd been cornered because she'd followed the gang's old code and not gone after the weaker and more vulnerable people in the town, and she'd paid for it with her life. Her death had pretty much killed what was left of all the adults' doubts about Gavin's change of ways. Anger was taking over the gang, and Kalem was about ready to quit and take Liam with him.

Crammed into their tiny hiding place, he and Liam emptied the pouch of coins they'd stolen and split them between the ones tied to their legs beneath their clothing. It was their way of making sure neither of them was weighed down more than the other, neither of them having worked solo since the loss of the castle. Kalem wasn't going to let Liam out of his sight in these lands, knowing he'd never forgive himself if he got hurt because they'd stayed as long as they had.

One more quick glance into the alley above assured them it was safe to come out, Kalem wincing as he squeezed himself through the opening with a helpful push from Liam beneath. Once the younger boy was lifted out and the crate replaced to cover the hole, they then quietly and carefully headed for the disused house the gang was using as their den.

~(-)~

The oiled rag swept back and forth over the smoothed surface, its touch bringing to life the rich grain and colour of the wood. This piece was now finished, and ready to be delivered. All he had to do was contact the noble who had ordered it and say it was ready to be collected, or take it himself.

Alan stood up straight, taking a step back to admire his work. He always felt a certain sense of satisfaction when he finished a commission, but it was something that he might not experience for a while now. It all depended on what his wife said when he asked her about it tonight.

The carpenter went out the back of the workshop, to get the cart sat out there. He then wheeled it around to the front, enlisting the help of the blacksmith next door to lift the heavy cabinet into the back of it. In doing so both of them passed the board on the wall where Alan pinned his commission letters, a board he'd deliberately worked to empty and not refill. His mind turned to his reasons for that, as he walked away pulling the cart a few minutes later. Merchants coming to Ulwin from the lands belonging to Cenrid had come bearing disturbing rumours, rumours about a man and a group well known in these parts.

The rumour was that Gavin, the leader of a once honourable group of thieves who left the poorest people alone, had changed to a man of violence. The merchants spoke of his gang stealing from the poor now, even going to far as to maim any who resisted. When he considered that the gang Gavin led had Ulwin and its lands as part of the territory they roamed, Alan didn't want to stay here any more. If a man, who before winter had been a good one, could change so much in just a handful of months since, then it was likely he would resort to anything.

He didn't want his family living in lands shadowed by such a threat. Living with the threat of Cenrid was bad enough; adding a now potentially insane gang leader to it only made up his mind. Enough was enough, he had to put his family... the family he _knew_ was alive and well... first.

~(-)~

Wary blue eyes inspected the room beyond the battered wooden door, peeking through a gap left by one of its loosened boards.

Kalem led Liam into gang's den, noting just how filthy most the occupants had become. Prior to losing the castle, everyone had taken pride in staying neat and clean, to show they weren't like the rag tag groups of bandits that roamed practically everywhere. They had been a group that took only what they needed, and only from those who could afford to lose it, but now they had degraded into the very sort they had once set themselves apart from. Looking at the sad remnants of once proud men and women, Kalem could feel only pity for them now. They could have fought against this, kept to their code despite what had happened, but instead they'd taken the easy way out.

They'd given up, and now Gavin was dragging them down. Down to the level he'd been at that day over ten years ago, when he'd shown up on a doorstep in Ulwin and the sorcerer had met for the first time.

Kalem ushered Liam to where their bags and blankets were, indicating with a small gesture that he wanted him to quietly and discretely begin packing. He'd had enough of Gavin, and what he was doing to the people who had been their extended family, and he wasn't going to hang around any longer. The coins he and Liam had stolen today, and also saved from previous days, would let them get started in Ulwin if they were smart about who they approached for work. With any luck they could put the gang and this growing nightmare behind them.

He walked over to their leader, holding out a leather pouch which actually only held a fraction of his and Liam's takings for today. Gavin never had any reason to suspect the pair had been concealing and hording coins in preparation to leave, and so he accepted the pouch with a small nod. Kalem watched as the man counted the coins, watched as a small pleased smile showed on the man's face before the metal disks were added to the bag containing the gang's funds. It was likely they would depart from this town soon, what with having picked it nigh clean. The people here were now scared to leave their homes at night, but just as scared to risk reporting the thefts to Cenrid's soldiers in the small garrison nearby. Gavin had taken advantage of that, but even he would admit they needed to move soon. Staying too long in one place was how many a foolish group of thieves got themselves slaughtered.

The coins now put away, Gavin called out to everyone present, his voice drawing the gang's remaining members to gather around him. His next words proved Kalem's assessment to be right.

"We'll be leaving the day after tomorrow, after we do one last job here. We should have no trouble pulling it off if everyone does their part, and it will keep us in enough coin to get rid of our rags and get some proper gear and weapons. If we pull this off, then every other gang for a hundred miles will know that we're to be respected."

All of the members present, except the four youngest, murmured in agreement to Gavin's words. Kalem and Liam just frowned, while Jarl and Katia kept to the back of the gathering looking uncertain. They didn't like the way the gang was going, but at the same time were too fearful to leave the security it represented. The gang were their family, and they were torn as to which way to go.

Kalem had no such reservations, but kept his opinion hidden for now as he raised his voice in query.

"And what is this 'job', that's so big and impressive that it would do that?"

Gavin started to smile, a smile of dark satisfaction... It made Kalem's spine _crawl_.

"It's the time of year when Cenrid starts collecting his taxes, and it just so happens that some of those taxes arrived at the garrison today. They'll stay there until the end of the week, when the armed convoy will come to collect it. We're going to collect it first."

To one side of the gathering, Uren frowned.

"The garrison? But that place is packed with almost fifty men. There are only fourteen of us, and we have only a few weapons. Even if we sneak inside, they'll kill us in no time at all once they spot us. The place will become our tomb."

The dark smile returned, Gavin chuckling.

"But you're forgetting something, Uren. We have something they don't, something which swords and armour can't defend against."

The moment those words were uttered, Kalem went still, his stomach now an icy pit... Was Gavin really suggesting that he..?

"You want me to kill them all... don't you."

His quiet words had all eyes turn to him, Gavin eyeing the gang's sorcerer flatly.

"These are hard times, Kalem, and it's about time you started pulling your weight instead of slacking off with excuses. You'll do as you're told, boy."

Kalem stared at him, wordless, barely able to believe what he was hearing. He then strode towards the gang leader, defiantly shaking his head.

"I _refuse_... I will not use my magic to murder. It exists to _protect_, and that is what I've done with it all these years since I first learnt I had it. Nothing you say will change that."

Gavin slowly rose to his feet, scowling as he stared with icy eyes at the youth who stared unwaveringly back. Kalem had no fear of him, they'd had stare-down matches like this before, and he honestly believed that Gavin would act as he had all those other times.

Except that he didn't...

Kalem was too stunned by what happened to react to it, too shocked to block the brutal backhand swing that Gavin levelled at him. The blow flung him to the floor of the abandoned house, dazed and disorientated, and there he lay as Gavin began to scream at him in rage.

"You _dare_ go against me? _Me,_ who raised you when you were handed to me by your father!" A booted foot lashed out, hitting the seventeen-year-old in the gut and knocking the wind out of him. "I should have left you to rot on the streets you ungrateful little bastard!"

No one moved, no one dared, while Gavin continued to lash out at the floored boy. It might have only been a few seconds, but it seemed an eternity before a young voice shouted out in protest.

"_LEAVE HIM ALONE! STOP HURTING HIM!_"

Liam threw himself at Gavin, grabbing onto his leg so that he couldn't kick Kalem anymore. All it did though was infuriate him even more, the gang leader seizing Liam by his hair before throwing him at the nearby wall. The twelve-year-old hit it with a thud and a cry of pain, sliding down it with his hands to his face, his lip split and bleeding from where he'd hit it.

The sight was enough to shock everyone, even more so than the beating inflicted on Kalem. Liam was the child of the group, their youngest member, and the one that everyone was supposed to look out for and protect. There was one person here who took that far more seriously than the rest, one who viewed Liam as the brother he'd never had.

Seeing the bewilderment on the boy's face, the pain and fear in his eyes, something inside of Kalem seemed to snap. In an instant the inside of the house was filled with the blasting winds of a gale, a gale that pushed everyone to the walls yet strangely left both he and Liam untouched. Pinned as he was to one of the walls, held there even after the rest of the gang had been released, Gavin could only stare at the furious sorcerer before him. Could only stare into the blazing golden eyes that seemed to pierce into his very soul.

~(-)~

**Alaia Skyhawk: Yes, I'm ending it there... aren't I nice? (evil grin) See you all in tomorrow's update!**


	26. The Start of the Fall 'Part 2'

**Alaia Skyhawk: ****Here's the next bit :)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Merlin TV series etc, but I do own the star of this fic... LIAM!**

**Music: Creeping Shadow (Shadow of the Colossus OST) Hunith's Letter to Gaius (Merlin OST)**

~(-)~

Chapter 26: The Start of the Fall ~Part 2~

Pieces of clothing dropped back to the floor, dust that had been stirred up began to settle, and all those within the shabby house waited with bated breath until the golden gleam faded from Kalem's eyes. One thing that didn't fade though was his fury, the young man's jaw set as he gritted his teeth in anger. Never had he felt this way before, never had he felt this rage. His bloodied nose and lip only added to the image, along with the bruise that was already forming at the edge of his left eye.

If there's one thing you should never do, it's harm someone that a sorcerer values _more _than you. He might have just sat out the beating, but the moment Gavin had hurt Liam that had been it.

Kalem let out a shuddering breath, fighting the urge to just crush the man in front of him. The only thing that stopped him was the knowledge that, if he did, he would be no better than him. Only that was enough to take the edge off of rage and let rational thought resume control. He spat out the blood from his split lip, eyes narrowing as he answered the question that Gavin had screamed while kicking him.

"I dare challenge you... because back when I was entrusted to you, you promised me you would never become this way again. That you had _changed_ and would live with _honour_ from then on. You've broken that promise, _Uncle_. You told my dad you would never raise a hand to me, and you've broken that one too."

The mention of the word 'uncle' rang though the silence within the house, the gang members glancing at each other in surprise and confusion. Only Uren and Ril didn't react, remaining unmoving while from the rear of the room Jarl's voice rose in startled query.

"You're Gavin's nephew?"

Kalem glanced at him as he released Gavin from the wall, before going over to and picking Liam up. He then began to gather both of their bags and belongings, completely ignoring the man.

"Not any more." He stood up straight, looking around at all those gathered. "If anyone wants to come with me, you're welcome to. But Liam and I aren't staying here another minute. Stay here and let Gavin drag you down into hell if you want to, but I don't give a damn anymore."

He started to lead Liam to the door, when Gavin got to his feet from where he'd slumped and took a step after them.

"You're not going _anywhere_, Kalem!"

"_Astrice!_" Gavin was flung back to the wall again, not hard enough to hurt him, but firm enough to knock the wind out of him. Kalem glared over his outstretched hand, unimpressed. "We are leaving, and there is nothing you can do to stop us. If you're smart, you won't even _try_ to follow us, because if you do then I won't be responsible for the consequences... If I consider you a threat to mine and Liam's safety, then I _will_ deal with you."

He turned away from Gavin, resuming the walk to the door. Once there, he looked around at the rest of the gang in silent query, his pause saying without words that if any were going to come with him then they had to do so now. None of them moved, although both Jarl and Katia looked conflicted. But, as he'd noted before, they were too scared to leave the security the gang represented.

It hurt to leave them, but it was their choice if they decided to say. He didn't have the right to try and force them to come with him. And it was with that that the two of them walked away, he and Liam leaving the town and heading west... towards Camelot.

~(-)~

The dimming of the sunlight as the day came to an end, the friendly greetings and goodnight wishes from his neighbours, only combined to form a deep sense of nostalgia. He had grown up in this town, in the very house he now walked towards, and now he was but a single step away from leaving it all behind.

Alan smiled when he saw Lillian waiting for him, stood in the doorway as she always did. A small face peered from within the hold of her arms, the little boy she held breaking into the wide smile of a one-year-old, babbling one of the few words he'd thus far learned.

"Da! Da da!"

Alan laughed as he lifted his son from Lillian's arms, entering the house and swinging the laughing boy through the air until they both were breathless. Meanwhile Lillian went to the hearth to finish preparing their evening meal, holding off eating hers until after she'd fed their son his. Alan watched it all as if seeing it for the first time, a sense of sadness lingering within him. They would still have happy times like these, but it may well be that never again would they experience them within these walls.

"Lillian... we need to talk..."

She looked at him with a small frown as he said it, before going and putting Luke to bed. As soon as the toddler was asleep, she then returned to the table and sat opposite him.

"What is it, Alan?"

The carpenter sighed, solemnly folding his hands on the table's surface.

"It's too dangerous here now, Lillian, and I'm not happy keeping you and Luke here. We have more than enough money saved up to start again anywhere we want to, and there are a lot of places safer and more stable than here."

She stared at him in surprise, confused and puzzled as to why he'd come out with this so suddenly.

"But what about the workshop? And all your clients among the nobles? Those won't be as easy to replace as a house."

Alan regarded her, unwavering.

"I have more than skill enough to build up trade quickly, especially if we go to Mercia. Your parents and brother have already left, and keep asking us to join them there... We should go."

"But what about Liam?"

He went silent at the mention of his youngest brother's name, before slowly shaking his head.

"It's been _five years_." He got to his feet, starting to pace. "He was only _seven _years old when he went missing, and look at all the raids that have happened since. I've had seekers searching all the way to the southern coast, and right into the far northern lands. _None _of them even found the slightest trace, Lillian." He stopped in his pacing, turning to look at her bleakly. "I'm just going to have to face it that my little brother must be dead. I can't keep you and Luke here, when I fear for your safety, just to keep chasing after a ghost. Dad killed himself because he couldn't bear to let go of the past, couldn't bear to move on and be without my mother. I won't repeat his mistake, and cling to the memory of Liam so much that I forget to care for you."

There were tears in his eyes as he said it, revealing just how hard it had been for him to admit it. A workshop, and a list of nobles who buy work from you regularly, were not reason enough to stay when they had opportunities in must safer lands... And both of them knew it.

Lillian looked around at their house, the home where they had started their life together, before wiping away the tears she too found in her eyes and rising to her feet.

"When will we leave?"

Alan sighed.

"If we start packing now, and take only what we really need, we can be away before noon tomorrow. I've already cleared the last of my commissions, and I know you don't have any orders to fill right now. I can go and buy a horse tomorrow morning, to pull our cart. There's really nothing to keep us here longer than that."

"Tomorrow..."

His wife wrapped her arms around herself for a moment, unsure, before sighing and nodding. Tomorrow they would head north, and join her parents in Mercia.

~(-)~

The cracking fire pushed back the night's darkness, its glow and warmth a comforting presence to the two youths sat beside it.

Liam poked at the rabbit that was cooking over the fire, hungry and impatient for it to be ready to eat. They'd only stopped to buy bread on their way out of the town, and Kalem was strictly rationing it to last the week or so it would take them to reach Ulwin, so everything else they had to catch or forage along the way there. It was a hometown for both of them, and it was presided over by a Lord they knew was just and fair. There really wasn't any other place they would think of going to in this situation.

Watching the flames, and remembering all the years he'd spent doing this with the gang, it was frightening to be just two people alone in the wilds. Were it not for the fact that Kalem was seventeen, older than Alan had been when he'd started his life with Lillian, and that he was also a sorcerer able to protect them both, then had he been given a choice then he might well have done as Jarl and Katia had done... Stay with the group that had been his family and protection for five years, despite the fact that Gavin and the gang had gone astray.

"Kalem... Why didn't you tell us Gavin was your uncle?"

His friend flinched at the question, before sighing and answering. There was no point in hiding it now.

"Uren and Ril knew, but when others started joining our gang there never seemed to be any point in mentioning it. We were all one big extended family, and it didn't matter if any of us were really related by blood. But I remember how chuffed Gavin was when we found out I had magic. He never once made any mention to me about how it could benefit the gang. All that mattered was that I found joy in it, and he found joy in watching me learn how to use it. He used to make little kites out of cloth and sticks for me, and hold the stings so they wouldn't fly away when I called wind to lift them into the air."

Kalem bit his lip, fighting back the hurt and tears the memories brought to the surface. Seeing the way Gavin had become, Liam could understand that pain.

"What are we going to do when we get to Ulwin?"

Kalem wiped the wet trails from his face, reaching out and turning the rabbit over on it's spit so that one side of it wouldn't become burnt.

"We'll go the farms, the ones that belong to Lord Hargren, just outside the manor walls. They always welcome extra hands, especially with the start of the harvest due in a couple of weeks." He snorted. "My uncle always avoided the option because it didn't appeal to his honour, or should I say his _pride_. He used to be a guardsman, don't ask me where, but he was also violent whenever he got drunk or someone crossed him. In the end his employer couldn't put up with it anymore, and fired him. He could have gone to the farms then, but thought that because he was a warrior, the life of a farmer would belittle him. So he started taking from people what he couldn't be arsed to earn for himself, and he took from anyone regardless of whether they were just as bad off as him. That was when he showed up in Ulwin, and I got to meet him for the first time."

Liam regarded him questioningly, curious but still wary of upsetting his friend.

"What happened?"

Kalem shook his head.

"My dad tried to get him to stop, tried to get him jobs, but Gavin always refused and always got turned down because of his reputation. It was only when dad got sick that Gavin seemed to take notice of him. My mom died when I was little, and my dad and uncle were my only family. Dad made Gavin promise to look after me, and being given a purpose like that actually seemed to be what he needed. He and two of his regular drinking buddies, Uren and Ril, joined up with the two of us and that became the start of our gang. When Lord Hargren heard about my father's death, and that I'd been left with a known troublemaker, he sent a letter of sympathy and a sum of money to help us find our feet. That's why Gavin came to respect him so much, even though he never did go look for a proper job, and why he became so angry when we lost the castle. For him, it was like Lord Hargren had just thrown away the past ten years of his respect for him. That's always been one of his biggest flaws, the way he can suddenly form and hold a grudge for even the slightest thing he views as betrayal."

"What do you think Gavin will do now? Now that you've left him."

Kalem frowned, distant and deeply concerned.

"I really don't want to even _try _and imagine. I just pray he realises what he's doing before it's too late... He may have done bad things, but he's still my uncle, and despite how angry I am at him right now, I still care... He's my only family, and I've just abandoned him and walked away."

Those last few words cut into Liam like a knife, the twelve-year-old hunching under a sudden weight of guilt.

"I did that too... and I did it again and again because I was too scared to face him... Too scared that he probably though I was dead."

Kalem jolted, turning to stare at the boy beside him, his eyes widening in shock.

"You have relatives? _Living_ relatives?"

Liam looked away, unable to bring himself to look at him in his shame.

"My oldest brother, Alan, wasn't in Tadoras with mom and the rest of us. He'd gone to Camelot to get parts for mom's loom, and we were to wait in Tadoras until he got back and then head back to Ulwin together. When dad killed himself, I rushed to the village thinking I could find mom, and Elias, and Helen, and get them to come help me wake him up. But when I saw the village burned, I remembered that they were dead."

"Liam..."

He felt Kalem's comforting arm reach around his shoulders, the tears rising and falling to soak into his ragged shirt.

"I just wanted to run away from the pain, so when you reached out to me and offered me a family, I went with you without a second thought for him... I just ran away from it all, like dad did."

Kalem pulled him into a hug, with no hesitation and no judgement for what his friend had done.

"It's alright, what's done is done, Liam, what matters is what you choose to do from now on. Where's Alan now?"

Liam murmured into the front of the sorcerer's shirt, muted and tearful.

"He's still in Ulwin, living in the house we grew up in. He's married now, to Lillian, and they have a son. I don't know his name. Every time we were in Ulwin I'd sneak off and watch him, to make sure they were all ok, but I could never pluck up the courage to tell him I was there. I'm a _coward._"

"Maybe you just need someone to stand with you, to support you so that you don't have to feel afraid." Liam pushed back from him, looking up at him uncertainly. Kalem smiled. "When we get to Ulwin, we'll go see them together... Do you think your brother might be able to help us get a job?"

Liam stared, before bursting into a smile and a chuckle.

"He owns his own workshop as a carpenter, and does lots of jobs for the nobility. He'd hire both of us without us even having to ask."

Kalem's smile widened into a grin, as he too began to chuckle.

"Then that's what we'll do. Do you think he'd mind me using your family name? You're like my little brother and I think I'd like to be a proper part of your family. It'll be a new start for both of us."

Liam continued to smile, joyous for the first time since they'd lost the castle.

"I don't mind, and I don't think he would. I think it's a great idea! Kalem Morranson!"

The sorcerer mulled over the name, before using a hand to ruffle Liam's hair.

"Kalem Morranson... I like the sound of that."

~(-)~

**Alaia Skyhawk: Why do I keep building their hopes up like this, when I know I'm about to emotionally rip their hearts out... But I couldn't help it, that last scene almost wrote itself!**


	27. The Start of the Fall 'Part 3'

**Alaia Skyhawk: And here I go again with the crushing the hopes and dreams of my OCs :S**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Merlin TV series etc, but I do own the star of this fic... LIAM!**

**Music: Gaius' Letter to Hunith (Merlin OST) Creeping Shadow (Shadow of the Colossus OST)**

~(-)~

Chapter 27: The Start of the Fall ~Part 3~

It was with an air of joyous anticipation that they approached the town, heading for one of the gates that allowed residents and visitors to enter and leave.

Kalem couldn't help but laugh at Liam's obvious excitement, and also obvious nerves. Every so often the twelve-year-old would pause in whatever he was doing and his fingers would twitch in reflex. Anyone who didn't know Liam's dubious set of skills would think the gesture similar to that of a warrior ready to grab a knife, and although Kalem knew Liam did carry knives, he could see the subtle difference.

Liam's twitch was a lockpicker's twitch, an escape reflex. When faced with having to find somewhere to hide, a pro lockpicker always preferred to find a locked door, quickly open it, then hide behind it and lock it again... Pursuers tended to think if a door was locked then the person they were looking for couldn't possibly be behind it.

The sorcerer watched as Liam did the twitch again, before striding to pull level with him and putting an arm across his shoulders.

"Relax, I don't think you're brother is going to call the guards on us. Stop worrying."

Liam looked at him sidelong, frowning a little in anxiousness.

"But what he gets angry that I never told him I was ok."

Kalem rolled his eyes.

"If what you've told me about him the past few days is any indication, the only thing he's going to be is overjoyed at seeing you again. So come on, stop dawdling and show me where his workshop is. It's the middle of the afternoon, so he should be there, right?"

Liam nodded.

"Yeah, he will be." He pointed down the street leading towards the manor walls, breaking into a slow trot. "It's this way."

The two of them wove through the streets with practiced ease, no one paying attention to them. It was clear they knew their way around Ulwin, so if they were local to the area why be interested. It was the kind of mentality that had prevented anyone from ever looking closely at Liam during his time with the gang, a reason why no one recognised him even when he'd been standing right in front of them. Thinking about it Kalem had to admit to himself that it was kind of sad. That a boy, who would certainly have been searched for, would not be _seen_ when he returned in a different guise.

He was still mulling over it when they reached the street where Ulwin's best craftsmen had their workshops, his thoughts giving way to surprise. So Liam's brother, Alan, had earned the right to a place on this street? It was no wonder Liam had shown such pride when he'd described him.

They stopped a few paces from the building next to the blacksmith's place, Liam hesitating until Kalem gave him a friendly nudge to get him moving. The child went to the workshop door, knocking tentatively before starting to push it open.

"Hello? Alan? Are you th..."

Liam stopped, the door only partly open, staring into the workshop with an expression that was rapidly changing to denial. Kalem rushed to his side, looking through the gap and staring in dawning dread. It was almost completely empty, with nothing but a few well-used worktables remaining. There were no tools, no wood stacked ready for crafting, nothing...

Liam spun and took off down the street, Kalem streaking after him calling out.

"Liam! Liam wait!"

The twelve-year-old didn't listen, and didn't stop running until he reached the house that was his objective. Kalem caught up to him just after he'd slammed open the cottage door, Liam standing in the doorway staring into a house as stripped of belongings as the workshop.

"...Alan..."

Kalem had never heard Liam sound so lost, so heartbroken, and to see the tears of bewilderment welling up in his eyes he had no choice but to look away or start crying too. Instead the seventeen-year-old looked along the street in either direction, walking over to one of the neighbours as soon as he spotted one.

"Excuse me, I wonder if you could help me with something."

The man he'd approached looked up from small cart he'd been unloading, setting down the crate he'd just picked up.

"And what might that be?"

Kalem frowned a little at the man's suspicious tone, but pushed aside annoyance and asked the question that for Liam's sake he needed answered.

"The family that lived there, Alan Morranson, his wife Lillian, and their son. Do you know where they went?"

The man eyed him warily.

"For what reason are you asking? Alan's a good man, and I'm not saying nothing to anyone who might wish him trouble."

"We're not looking for trouble. I just need you to tell me what you know." Kalem glanced over his shoulder, drawing the man's attention to the now sobbing boy. "_He_ needs to know what you can tell us... We came here expecting to find his brother, and instead we've only found an empty workshop and an empty house..."

The man's eyes widened, before he leaned to look around Kalem to regard the nearby child.

"Wait, is he?"

"Liam Morranson. A child who, when he found his father hanging, ran away and ended up with a group of strangers who took him in as one of their own. He and I left that group a short while ago, and he finally admitted to me his full name and that he had family here." Kalem's expression was bleak, his eyes pleading. "I brought him home in the hope of a new beginning for us both, and a life where he would be part of a family with his brother again. So please, tell me what you know. Wherever Alan has gone, if we're quick maybe we can catch up to him."

The man tore his gaze away from Liam, his expression immediately changing to regret and sympathy. Neither boded well for the request.

"I'm sorry lad, but Alan didn't tell anyone where it was he were planning to go. He's got close ties to Lord Hargren, and he didn't doubt the man would try and convince him not to leave. He left a letter for him with Jake, just down the street. Jake took the letter up to the manor this morning, just as Alan asked him to... one week after he left with his wife and son. There's no telling which way they went." He glanced again at Liam. "And to think, Alan spent the past five years hiring seekers to look for his brother, and now after he finally gives up his brother shows up out of nowhere."

"Do you know _why_ he left? Surely if he had stable work here he'd have stayed."

The man grimaced.

"A guy well known in these parts, Gavin, went bad a few months ago. All sorts of rumours have been coming in from merchants heading this way from Cenrid's lands. I guess it was just the last straw, what with all the raids along the border, so they packed up and left. Alan's always been protective of his family, and Lillian's parents had already left to go to somewhere safer, so chances are he took her and his son to join them."

Kalem cursed under his breath, gritting his teeth, before thanking the man for his help. He then went back to Liam, whose sobs had faded and who now stood in numb silence.

"Liam, one of the neighbours said that Alan left with Lillian and their son a week ago, but that he never said where he was planning to go... He didn't want Lord Hargren to try and talk him out of it, so they left without warning." He turned Liam to face him, crouching down so his eyes were level with the boy's. "We can still look for them, Liam. If we check each of the towns and villages just along the main roads from here, someone should have seen them go by. We can track them down, and follow them until we catch up."

Liam remained silent, tears welling up again before in an angry gesture he swiped them away with his fist. He then shook his head, refusing to make eye contact with his friend.

"If I'd gone back to him before now, gone back any of the times I've stood watching this house, then this wouldn't have happened."

Kalem stood up again, debating whether or not to tell Liam the other information he'd gained from the neighbour. In the end he had to admit that he was likely to find out anyway.

"That guy said that Alan had been looking for you, hiring seekers to search for you. He kept looking right up until he left."

Liam looked like he'd been kicked, biting his lip before clenching his fists.

"And I hid from him like a coward. He never gave up on me, but I was too scared to face him... I don't have the right to look for him anymore."

"_Liam!_"

The child stopped, having started to walk away, turning to gaze at Kalem with dull eyes.

"I had my chance, Kalem, and I lost it. I kept telling myself I wasn't ready to go back to him, to tell him I was alive, and now it's too late. I'm dead to him, and I might as well stay dead. I don't belong with him anymore."

It was like the old Liam had died, and now all that stood there was a shadow. Seeing his friend like this, Kalem could tell that no amount of reasoning from him would change his mind. Liam needed time for his heart to heal, and time to forgive himself. Until then, he'd save up what he could from what they'd earn once they got a job. And then, when that day came, he'd hire a seeker himself to track Alan down. A carpenter tends to be a fairly well known part of any community they live in, so he shouldn't be too hard to find.

He strode to Liam's side, putting a hand on his shoulder and leading him away, his voice as reassuring as he could manage with what he had on his mind.

"Let's go to the farms and ask if they're hiring. We still need to eat, and I for one don't want to go back to thieving. If you can't be a family with Alan, then at least you've still got me. Remember, I'm Kalem Morranson now."

Liam didn't look at him, but the deep breath and the sigh the boy let out at least told Kalem his words had reached him. But while he'd been honest about the fact Alan had been searching for him, there was one thing he resolved never to mention to the child... because to do so would shatter him even more than he already was.

He would never tell Liam that Alan had left Ulwin because of _their_ gang...

~(-)~

It was a rather surprised expression that greeted the letter, an envelope crudely sealed yet bearing neat script in a hand he recognised extremely well.

Lord Hargren picked it up from the pile of messages, pushing the rest aside. It had been buried near the bottom, meaning it had arrived early first thing, and yet he'd been in view of the main gate all morning while doing an inspection of his guards. He'd seen several of the townspeople coming and going for various reasons, but had not seen Alan among them.

Still a little puzzled by it, he shook that aside and turned the envelope over, breaking the seal and pulling out the sheet from within. When he unfolded it and read the first line, he went utterly still before slumping back in his chair. He continued to read, his expression changing from disbelief to regret, as he progressed through the message until he reached its conclusion.

The hand holding the letter sank down to the surface of the desk, lying there limp while the other rose to press between closed eyes. Why hadn't he seen this coming? Why hadn't he noticed the growing concerns of one of his most trusted people, and dare he say it, friend. It was true. After Samer's death and Liam's disappearance, Alan had slipped into the position his father had held. He had become a trusted supporter, and a stanch ally among the people of the town, and that was why he'd left without saying goodbye.

He hadn't wanted to face his Lord trying to reason with him to stay, and he didn't want to be followed. As hard as that was to accept, he would adhere to Alan's wishes and not attempt to bring him back. If there was one thing Hargren believed in, it was that all people have their own will, and it was Alan's will that he leave.

Lord Hargren sighed in regret, setting the letter aside with a heavy heart. Ulwin still prospered as a hub of trade, but Alan's sudden departure was not an isolated occurrence. A handful of other prominent people in the town had left, mostly due to a number of disturbing rumours filtering over from Cenrid's lands.

Hargren got to his feet, starting to pace before stopping to look at the map on his wall. His eyes settled on the marker for the Ascetir Fortress, the castle he'd had no choice but to commandeer back at the start of spring.

"Gavin, you fool... You should have _known_ I would find someplace else for you if you'd only thought to ask..."

Caught between two regrets, a friend departed for unknown lands, and a man with whom he'd shared an unspoken agreement of respect and trust, who had clearly descended into rage and revenge. But he was the Lord of Ulwin, and he had no choice but to carry on and keep looking forward. Dwelling on the past was a luxury he did not have in times such as these.

He returned to his desk and resumed sorting through the various reports, but even so the shadows of his worries did not leave his eyes. But it was an entirely different light that haunted the eyes of a man some distance away, a man sat beside a fire within the canyon where his group had set up camp.

Gavin glared into the flames, snapping pieces off a branch and tossing them into the embers. Kalem may have warned him not to try and stop him leaving, but that hadn't stopped him from following him. If his traitorous nephew thought to start again in Ulwin, then he had best think again. Ulwin relied on trade for its prosperity, and one simple way to ruin that trade was to scare away any merchants who would want to go there... And targeting those merchants before they reached the protection of the walls would easily do that.

The gang leader smiled ever so slightly, continuing to throw bits of the stick into the fire. Kalem knew him all too well, and was certainly right about one thing.

Gavin never forgot a grudge...

~(-)~

**Alaia Skyhawk: Dun dun dun DUN! **


	28. To Lose Everything 'Part 1'

**Alaia Skyhawk: And here I go again with the crushing the hopes and dreams of my OCs :S**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Merlin TV series etc, but I do own the star of this fic... LIAM!**

**Music: Merlin Lost (Merlin OST) Creeping Shadow (Shadow of the Colossus OST)**

~(-)~

Chapter 28: To Lose Everything ~Part 1~

It hadn't taken long for the gossip to spread, starting first with the man Kalem had spoken to, and moving outwards from that street until all of Ulwin knew it.

Liam Morranson, the child who had gone missing five years ago, had returned... But unfortunately not soon enough. Many well-wishers, friends of the family or just people who respected them, had followed the rumours to the farms owned by the manor. A young man whom acted as if an older brother to the boy, asking that the people respect that Liam needed privacy right now, had blocked most of these.

The two youths certainly didn't need to fear not having a roof over their heads, for the young man had at least accepted the offer of shelter from one of the farmers. Some people in the town had donated clothing, others small sums of coins. With the response so large, in the end it wouldn't have been practical for the two youths to store it all, and so he had offered to hold most of it in trust for them.

Lord Hargren sighed, reading through the accounting report from his treasurer. It filled him with pride that so many of the people he presided over should be so kind, and while the amounts given were not overly generous, they still represented a fund which would ensure both youngsters' futures for at least a year or maybe even two... And that was if they didn't work at all during that time.

He picked up another report, from the overseer in charge of all the farms. Both Liam and his friend, Kalem, had proven to be hard workers. But it was also tacked onto the bottom of the report that the younger of them was extremely quiet and withdrawn, the other extremely protective. Wherever Liam had been the past five years, it was likely that Kalem had been with him during that time. The young man's firm handling of the well-wishers spoke greatly of his inherent desire to shelter Liam, and such loyalties did not form overnight.

Hargren rose to his feet, leaving his desk and heading out of his study. It had been almost a week since the pair had arrived, and while a single disturbing report during that time really needed his attention, he could not stand by in his manor for a moment longer. Even if Kalem blocked him from seeing Liam, he could at least speak to the young man and find out _something_ about where Liam had been all this time.

~(-)~

Blue eyes warily watched the paths that led to the barn, their owner relaxed as his did his work yet at the same time watchful of any who might wish to speak to Liam. It might have seemed overprotective, but with the twelve-year-old still in a state of deep guilt, it was better not to have people reminding him of the fact he'd been so close yet too late to reunite with his brother.

Kalem sighed, glancing to the far end of the barn where Liam was sweeping up. This place was one of the crop stores, which, seeing as the harvest would be starting in two days, needed to be prepared to start receiving what was brought in. To cut a long story short, he and Liam had been pegged with the soft job of sweeping the place out. Even the overseer had gotten all sympathetic with them, giving them all the easy jobs when both of them could probably worked off their frustration more on something harder. But still, they shouldn't complain. They were getting paid the same as if they'd been doing the hard graft anyway.

Taking note that it was time for them to take a break, Kalem went to a cloth sack near the door and pulled out two small cloth bundles. He walked over to Liam and handed him one of the bread rolls those bundles contained, each filled with a generous wedge of cheese... As if the overseer wasn't spoiling them enough, the wife of the farmer they were staying with was spoiling them as well. She'd even gone so far as to cut their hair for them insisting on tidying their ragged bangs. After she'd done so, she'd actually paused to stare at Liam. Apparently, with his hair now short and clean, he was the double of his brother Alan at that age.

"Thanks..."

Kalem frowned a little bit at Liam's muted tone, but didn't say anything about it. He remembered how bad he'd felt when his father had died and he'd ended up with Gavin, and quite likely the pain Liam was in right now was similar to that. He left the child sitting on a box just inside the barn door, going to stand outside and keep watch for visitors again. It was just as well he did, because something different from before caught his eye. Someone was coming along one of the track ways towards this barn, and the overseer was with them.

He frowned and stepped away from where he leaned against the barn wall. He then started up the track towards the overseer and the man with him, his expression changing to surprise. He may never have actually seen the man before, but there was no way he'd ever mistake Lord Hargren. The Lord of Ulwin himself had come down here, _without_ an escort, and that was something altogether unexpected.

Hargren saw the young man stop a short distance from the barn, obviously waiting to see what he would do. He'd seen a moment of surprise on Kalem's face, quickly smoothed away with an ease that many who dealt with politics would envy. Commoner he might be, but he had an air about him that marked him as a young man who had the potential to be a talented leader.

It was no wonder the well-wishers had been so easily turned away without causing offence, because if his guess was right then this young man was a born politician.

"I'll be fine from here. You may return to you work."

The overseer nodded at his words, half bowing before walking away.

"As you wish, My Lord."

Hargren waited until he was a fair distance away, before resuming his walk towards Kalem. Only once he was within a few strides of where the teenager stood did he speak, remaining at that distance in tactful courtesy.

"You are the young man known as Kalem, correct?"

Blue eyes measured him up, before he replied.

"I am... To what do I owe this encounter, Lord Hargren? For I am sure this is not merely a social visit."

Hargren actually hesitated at that, stunned to a moment of silence in surprise. He had guessed this young man before him had talent for words, but had not anticipated that he would already be a master of tone. There is an art to delivering words in politics, and it falls entirely to the pitch of one's voice when speaking. Someone had taught his young man, and taught him well.

"You speak well for a man born a commoner, and you have obviously been educated to at least a reasonable extent. Might I enquire as to where you studied?"

A small smile plucked at the corner of Kalem's mouth, the sorcerer knowing he'd peaked the lord's interest. Hargren was curious, and that was good... It meant he wasn't going to underestimate him.

He let out a small chuckle, folding his arms and allowing his formal phrasing to be replaced by a more casual prose.

"I learnt out in the woods mostly, a few hours at a time here and there. There were a couple of times my tutor visited where I lived with my friends, and those occasions I got to spend a week or two on it... The Druids are an interesting and wise people, if you actually give them a chance." Hargren went wide-eyed at that, Kalem smiling wryly. "If you're wondering why I'm so willing to admit I was taught by a Druid, it's because they speak so highly of you... After all, you _did_ warn all the groups who lived close to here, to take cover just before Uther started the Purge. Somehow I doubt a man who would take a risk like that, a man known to be honourable, would change his mind about them even years later."

Silence fell between them, before Hargren closed the last of the distance so he could lower his voice lest someone hear their conversation.

"You know a great deal about me, for someone so young. And you also seem to have a considerable grasp of the general situation in these lands."

Kalem regarded him knowingly.

"I do, and I can tell you things such as that Lord Cenrid is due to send a raid shortly before the first frosts. Most likely in the area just north of the fort at Rillen. I came by the information eavesdropping on some of his men, a short while before I had some other information I'd rather _not_ have, pounded into me."

Hargren had stiffened at the mention of the planned raid, but then frowned at the latter statement. Given that Kalem still sported the remains of a black eye and a split lip, it was clear he considered those words to be literal.

"What information might that be?"

Kalem sighed, looking away for a moment.

"You've heard of Gavin, right?"

Hargren went utterly still, knowing as he did the recent rumours.

"He attacked you?"

Kalem turned his gaze back to the lord.

"You could say that... He kicked the shit out of me, when I refused to take part in anything that involved killing or hurting people. He didn't take kindly to his nephew saying _no_."

Hargren stared in shock, shaken by the implications.

"You're a member of his gang?"

"_Was_ a member." Kalem's expression became one of disgust, the young man shaking his head. "Liam was too, but I left and brought him with me. I'd been considering leave for a while; I just regret I waited as long as I did... If I hadn't, then we'd have got here before Alan left. We were the ones who picked Liam up and took him in. We found him screaming his lungs out in grief at the ruins of Tadoras. He's been in and out of Ulwin dozens of times since then, spying on his brother every time he did. He only admitted it to me when we were on our way here, the same time he finally told me his full name."

"So that's what happened, and why the seekers could never find him. They were always looking in the wrong places, outside of Camelot when all this time he was right under our noses."

Kalem nodded, frowning.

"Yeah, and the gang is the reason his brother left here. Without even meaning to, I'm partly responsible for both Alan's and Liam's anguish. I owe it to both of them to see to it Liam is kept safe."

"I could send someone to look for him, for Alan. Surely Liam would want that."

Hearing the lord's words, Kalem shook his head.

"I already tried asking him. He's so stricken with guilt and regret right now, that he feels he doesn't have the right to. I'm not going to force it. Once his heart has had time to heal, and his head time to clear, I can always hire a seeker to find Alan then... A carpenter, who lives in full view, will be a lot easier to find than a child wandering the wilds with a gang." Kalem turned his back to Hargren, preparing to walk away. "I ask that you leave Liam be for the time being. He may be up to a visit in a few weeks, but not right now."

Hargren nodded.

"I understand, and I will abide by that. What else can you tell me of Gavin, before I return to my duties?"

"...I tried to talk him into coming to you, to convince him that you had no choice but to take our castle, and that you would help us find somewhere new. He wouldn't listen, and instead he's dragged the gang down into hell... I recommend keeping an eye out for him. There's no telling what he might do while carrying a grudge, and right now he has one against _both _of us."

Kalem walked away, Hargren murmuring grimly after him.

"I'll keep that in mind, and I'll trust that you will continue to look after Liam in his brother's stead."

Kalem glanced back, his expression solemn.

"You can count on that... because I consider Liam to be the _only_ family I have now."

~(-)~

It had been a scene of devastation, a scene to bring horror to the eyes of the gang's two youngest members. Now back in their canyon camp, Jarl comforted a bewildered and terrified Katia. They may not have taken part in what had occurred, but they'd been forced to witness it. It was clear now that they should have gone with Kalem and Liam, because if they had then they wouldn't be here facing this.

Jarl looked over to where the gang's ten other remaining members sat around the campfire, eating food stolen from an innocent merchant, laughing among themselves as if they hadn't brutally murdered the man just hours ago. This was a nightmare, a complete nightmare, and one he wanted so much to escape. But unlike Kalem and Liam, if he and Katia tried to walk away they didn't doubt that Gavin would retaliate. He was like a man possessed, a man backed up in this madness by Uren and Ril. So long as those two followed him, so would all the others. Those who had muttered words against this path, had been beaten by the pair.

Holding the sobbing sixteen-year-old close, Jarl bit his lip and prayed... Prayed that Kalem would hear about what was happening, and come back to take them away from this.

~(-)~

**Alaia Skyhawk: One long scene of Kalem being epic, and another showing that Gavin has pretty much gone off the deep end. How two men who are related could be so different, it just goes to show that I like to make things awkward for all my OCs who have common sense.**


	29. To Lose Everything 'Part 2'

**Alaia Skyhawk: Here's the next bit.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Merlin TV series etc, but I do own the star of this fic... LIAM!**

**Music: Creeping Shadow (Shadow of the Colossus OST) Hunith's Letter to Gaius, Burdens of Duty (Merlin OST) **

~(-)~

Chapter 29: To Lose Everything ~Part 2~

It was a grim expression that found itself upon Lord Hargren's face, creasing his brow in a deep frown as he regarded the spread of reports before him. In the past week, no less than five incidents had occured. Each was an attack on an individual or group of travellers, and each time there had been no survivors. They had been murdered and then stripped of anything useful or valuable, before being left to rot where they fell.

Hargren cursed under his breath, leaving his study to head for the town garrison. Kalem had warned that there was no telling what Gavin would do while holding a grudge, and it seemed that now they had found out. One man among the victims had lived long enough to give a description of his killers, a group who was led by a man matching the exact description of him. It was clear what he was doing, he was trying to ruin Ulwin's trade, and in doing so hurt both individuals whom he wished to seek revenge against. But if he thought he would get away with it, then he was sorely mistaken.

The lord strode through the manor and on to the garrison, his manner stormy when he arrived at the office of the commander. The knight didn't even get the chance to rise to his feet, before his lord told him his orders.

"I want you to gather every man we can spare from patrols, and have them ready to move out within the hour. The gang, which was causing trouble in Cenrid's lands, is now attacking travellers on our northern road... and I want them found. The attack this morning should still bear a trail to follow, and so it is my order that a force be sent to deal with them. Capture them if possible, but if necessary I give you authorisation to kill them."

He didn't even wait for the knight to reply, turning and leaving without so much as a hint of courtesy. He was angry with Gavin, for his foolishness. But if he wanted to play it this way, then he was going to feel the full weight of Camelot's law.

Just under an hour later, a force of twenty soldiers left through the tiny east gate into the garrison. The people on the manor's farms outside that wall looked up in uncertainly, one of them far more concerned than the rest.

Kalem frowned as he watched the men ride out, pausing on his way to the market. His eyes followed their progress towards the north road with concern, narrowing his eyes in thought. Rumours were already circulating in town about the attacks along that road, and while no one knew who the culprits were he could make a good guess. The blind slaughter, the violence with which it had apparently been done, smacked of something Gavin would do when in a rage. If it _was_ him, then those soldiers were going to be in trouble...

He continued on his way, still frowning. Hargren must have been really upset to rashly send some of his men out so suddenly. For a lord who placed such importance in the strategic planning of the border defences, this seemed far too hasty. He had no idea of how well Gavin and the gang knew the lands around Ulwin, and it should be obvious that they would expect to be pursued at some point. Those soldiers were more than likely riding straight into a trap.

Shaking the thoughts from his head, Kalem pushed them aside. It wasn't his concern, not unless Lord Hargren came to him for information, and right now he had a far more hopeful and joyous task in mind for this morning. Liam's depression had become insecurity, the youngster rarely willing to let the sorcerer out of his sight. Only Kalem's solemn promise that he would be back before noon had gotten Liam to stay behind at the farmhouse. The farmer's wife would be fussing over him again, and that at least would keep him distracted.

Kalem passed through one of the gates and into the town proper, hands tucked into his pockets with no intention of removing them. It felt rather strange to be walking around and _not_ be out to do pick pocketing, so much so that he'd decided to keep his hands occupied rather than chance him forgetting his new circumstances and swiping something out of reflex.

He chuckled to himself at that thought, smiling slightly. Those days were behind him now. He would live and work as a proper citizen from now on, earning a wage and paying his way instead of stealing from the rich. He'd miss the challenge of that life, but it would be worth it in the long run. If he played things right with Lord Hargren, he might even be able to get jobs in the manor for Liam and himself. Working for the nobility, if you didn't mind bowing and scraping to keep the obnoxious ones happy, was a cushy life if you managed to progress and become a retainer. Once you were a retainer, so long as you never committed a crime and never offended any nobles, you had your job for life.

He was still musing over that rather entertaining topic when he arrived at his destination, the area of the market where the jewellery sellers could be found. He had something simple but specific in mind, and he needed two of them. The best bet was to find the guy who did engraving.

Five minutes later found Kalem haggling a price with the craftsman in question, a pair of plain copper disks on cords being the object of the discussion. The pendants themselves weren't expensive, but the man was being stubborn about how much he wanted in payment to engrave them with what the seventeen-year-old was requesting. In the end Kalem gave in and paid him the amount he was asking, which made this the first time in his life he'd not stuck it out to shave a few coppers off the price. Unfortunately today he couldn't waste any time, not if he was to get back to the farmhouse by noon.

It took barely fifteen minutes for the craftsman to finish them, allowing Kalem to take them and go. The man had raised his eyebrows at one part of the request, but had done it regardless, and that was enough to keep the sorcerer happy. He had a secretive smile on his face when he got back to the farm, Liam staring at him for a moment before a hint of his old curiosity showed in his eyes.

"What are you hiding?"

The almost accusatory tone in Liam's query made Kalem start to chuckle, nodding to the farmer's wife before he went over to sit with Liam at the table. He then offered him one of the pendants, smiling widely as he did.

"This is for you, Liam. I got it with some of our first week's wages. I have one too, see?"

Liam had taken hold of the one offered to him, but now looked at the other one that Kalem pulled from beneath his shirt. Both copper disks had a pair of stylised wolves on their front, and a name engraved on the back, Liam Morranson and Kalem Morranson respectively.

Kalem turned his around so Liam could see the name, still smiling.

"In the old legends, wolves are described as being the representation of true brotherhood. A pack of wolves are loyal to each other for life, and if ever separated will always seek to find each other again. We may not be related by blood, but as far as I'm concerned you _are_ my brother now. These are my promise that I'll _always_ think of you that way, that no matter where I may go once you're grown up, I'll be there for you in one way or another."

Liam looked at the pendant, but still didn't seem completely happy.

"You mean you'll leave one day?"

Kalem reached across the table and placed a hand on Liam's arm, lowering his voice a little.

"I have a dream, remember, the one Nellan said I had the talent for. If I follow it, then maybe one day I can make a big difference to this world... and I wouldn't have to hide my true self anymore." He gave Liam's arm a squeeze in reassurance. "But like the wolves, no matter how far I have to go to do that, I'll always return so I can be beside my little brother again."

Liam started to smile, the first smile Kalem had seen from him since they'd discovered Alan had left. It brightened even further, as Liam looped the necklace's cord over his head and proudly let it hang outside his shirt. He then got up from his seat and came around the table to envelope Kalem in a hug.

"Thanks!"

Looking down at that happy face, Kalem started to grin. For now at least, the old Liam was back.

"That's what big brothers are for. Now come on, I know we had the morning off, but we still have work to do this afternoon. They started on the wheat fields today, and we're supposed to help stook the corn so it can dry."

"I'll race you to the fields!"

Liam took off out of the door like he'd been fired from a longbow, Kalem unable to help himself laughing as he dashed out after him. His worries about Gavin were banished for now, but they would return. Right now though his only thoughts were those of happiness. Liam was smiling, and that was all that mattered.

~(-)~

The clatter of iron-shod hooves filled the castle courtyard, the group of two knights and the lord they were escorting arriving with haste in the morning light. This visit was an unexpected one, they had sent no warning, and immediately one of the castle guards went to seek out the king.

Lord Hargren got down from his horse, his expression solemn and grim. Three days ago he had send twelve armed and armoured men to track down and deal with Gavin and his gang... Three days ago only two of those men had come back alive. What they'd described had been a massacre, an ambush laid by the gang in the expectation of someone coming after them. An archer had picked them off their horses, those still alive when they fell falling victim to the blades of the gang. They'd also described what seemed to be two hostages, and yet neither had been bound, just a young man and a woman, barely more than a girl, huddling off to one side and staying out of the fight.

Hargren knew the gang, and knew the descriptions of its members. It was likely the two who hadn't fought were the youngest of those remaining, dragged into this madness by the rest of their supposed comrades. It did not matter though, because the gang had to be dealt with. They would be spared if possible, but if not then he would just have to live with it.

He strode into the castle, after ordering his escort to rest while they could. He was then escorted to the council chambers, arriving there to find Uther seated at the table within along with his son.

Prince Arthur, now a sturdy fourteen-year-old, rose to his feet and offered a respectful half-bow to Lord Hargren, Uther nodding in approval of the gesture. The king then also rose to his feet, a hand indicating that his friend be seated at the other side of the table from his son.

Hargren did not move right away, instead glancing at the prince before speaking to Uther.

"I have grave matters to discuss with you, and a request... It is regarding a recent spate of murders within Ulwin's lands."

Uther frowned for an instant, before nodding and speaking to his son.

"Arthur, you are dismissed. You may do as you wish for the remainder of the morning, but remember to attend to your lessons this afternoon."

Arthur nodded, bowing to his father before turning to leave.

"Yes, Sire." He offered another polite nod to the visitor. "Lord Hargren."

Both men watched the boy leave, Hargren waiting until the guards had closed the doors again before seating himself at the table. It was then that he answered the silent question in the king's regard of him.

"Since late spring, rumours of a savage gang have filtered through to Ulwin via merchants coming from King Cenrid's lands. A little over a week ago, a series of vicious attacks occured against travellers heading to Ulwin from the north. Three days ago, I sent out what men I could spare to track the gang down and deal with them..."

Uther frowned in the silence that followed.

"What happened to them?"

Hargren sighed.

"Of the twelve men I sent, only two made it back alive. The gang had anticipated I would strike against them, and prepared an ambush. In hindsight I realise I had been hasty, for I have a former member of that gang working for me on one of my farms."

"You're _employing _one of them?"

Uther's tone was incredulous, Hargren hastening to explain.

"The young man left the gang due to their sudden change in ways, and he volunteered that information to me as well as warned me to keep watch for them. I know now that I should have consulted him in order to outmanoeuvre them, and my failure to do so cost me the lives of those ten men... And that brings me to my request."

Uther, now solemn, nodded.

"Go on."

"I have come to petition you lend me a squad of knights, for the sole task of bringing those criminals to justice. Admittedly my forces are stretched thin, and it has left me with little flexibility to deal with those brigands. I am also in the midst of preparing for a raid from King Cenrid's lands, of which I received a tip off shortly before the incidents with the murders. I cannot strip my garrisons of the knights you sent to my service five years ago. They are the commanding officers within them, and to move them elsewhere would leave the forts dangerously lacking in leadership."

"It seems you find yourself in quite the predicament, my friend." Uther leaned back in his chair, thinking before giving his response to the request." I will do as you ask, and loan you a squad of knights... I will also assign addition men to your forts. When men are stretched thin, they tend to tire. The border will be better secured if there are more to share the burdens."

Hargren bowed deeply in his seat, relieved.

"I thank you, Sire. You have been more than generous."

"And you have been more than stubborn." Hargren looked up, startled, Uther chuckling a little. "I've known for a while that your forces were stretched thin, and wondered for the same just how long it would be before you came to request additional men. I know you do not wish to appear weak in your management of the border defences, but in truth you have already proven yourself more than enough. So I ask, in future, that you be a bit more candid with regards to if or not your forces can manage. It will do Camelot no good if the defences fail because you would not ask for assistance."

Hargren cleared his throat, trying to conceal his embarrassment. While it hadn't been a scolding, it _had _been a rebuke. If he'd happened to come here when Uther was _not_ in a pleasant mood, things might not have gone this smoothly.

"My apologies, Sire. I will remember that in future."

"See that you do." Uther rose to his feet, signalling a servant stood near the small rear door in the back corner of the chamber. The servant hurried away, before Uther resumed his seat. "I will have the knights ready to leave by this afternoon. Until then, if you are amenable, I would like you to dine with me. I believe you have yet to meet my ward, Morgana."

Hargren smiled and nodded, all too willing to take advantage of the chance to smooth over what could have been more than a mildly worded warning. Dining with the king, his son, and his renowned strong-willed ward would go some way to doing that.

It was thus, several hours later, that he was finally able to depart with the promised squad of knights following behind him. Gavin had outwitted him once due to his haste, but this time he would be far more cautious... This time he would seek the help of someone who knew the man better than any other.

~(-)~

**Alaia Skyhawk: And there you have it. For anyone who's curious about what Kalem was going on about, "stooking" is where the wheat stems are tied into bundles after being cut, and then stacked on end in clusters to let them dry out properly before being taken to be threshed. Grain that isn't dried properly before it's stored is likely to go mouldy, so picking a clear few days of weather for the wheat harvest was really important in the times before the advent of grain dryers. These days farmers can, if they wish, bring grain in damp and run it through a dryer. It costs them more to produce it if they do this though... And that is the end of Wheat Harvesting 101... I'll see about getting part 3 up tomorrow, lol :)**


	30. To Lose Everything 'Part 3'

**Alaia Skyhawk: I will admit I got teary eyed a few times during the end of this.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Merlin TV series etc, but I do own the star of this fic... LIAM!**

**Music: Creeping Shadow (Shadow of the Colossus OST) Merlin Lost (Merlin OST) **

~(-)~

Chapter 30: To Lose Everything ~Part 3~

Everywhere in the town, people murmured fearfully to one another. Another attack had occured while Lord Hargren was away, and a number of merchants and craftsmen were becoming unsettled enough to start considering leaving Ulwin... Providing they could find a safe route out where they wouldn't be attacked.

Hargren frowned as he thought about it, glad that the arrival of a squad of knights seemed to have gone some way to reversing that. Gavin's scare tactics would not work, not when the people placed such great faith in the strength of the Knights of Camelot, the kingdom's elite warriors. He'd arrived back to find a pile of reports, working through them quickly while the knights had some time to rest from the hard ride. He wanted them to be out of here by noon, tracking the gang down, but for that they would need one more person.

The reports dealt with, Hargren left his study and once again headed down to the farms. He'd already made a note of which farmhouse a certain young man was living in, and it was there that he now went.

The lord's arrival in the village-like cluster of houses caused some surprise, but when he showed no sign of having come to make an announcement, they continued with their tasks and left him to his business.

When he reached the farmhouse in question and knocked on the door, the wife of the owner stared at him in surprise before hastily inviting him in.

"Lord Hargren. What can I do for you, My Lord?"

It was still early enough that her two young guests were still here, the lord indicating the older of them.

"I have come to speak to Kalem... Kalem, if you would come outside for a moment. There is something I need to ask of you."

The young man got up from his seat at the table, directing a smile of reassurance to Liam before following Hargren back out of the house. They then walked to the side of the building, where the people out and about couldn't stare at them. Once there, Kalem folded his arms across his chest, leaning against the wall and frowning slightly.

"This is about the gang, isn't it?"

Hargren nodded.

"Yes, it is... King Uther has granted me a squad of his knights to deal with them, but I will not repeat the mistake I made with the last force I sent. You know Gavin, his habits, and the areas around Ulwin where he most likely is... Will you go with the knights, and lead them to where you think he will be? Will you advise them on how best to avoid another ambush like the one which decimated my previous force of men."

Kalem hesitated, before letting out a long sigh.

"When I left the gang, I told Gavin that if he became a threat to mine and Liam's safety, I would deal with him. He's committed terrible acts against the people in this area, murdered them almost certainly to get at you and me, and he must be punished for it... Yes, I'll lead the knights to where he is. Given that he's working the north road right now, there's only one place I know where the gang will have set up camp." He glanced at the lord. "When do you need me?"

Hargren's expression was one of gratitude, beneath his obvious concerns.

"Noon, but if you could come to the garrison now that would be ideal."

Kalem moved away from the wall, heading to go back into the house.

"I'll just get my bow. If the gang has set their camp the way they usually do at that spot, I'm going to need it... Not even the armour of the knights is proof against a longbow, and Ril has one. He'll be the one who took out most of your men on your last attempt."

He went into the house, retrieving his bow and quiver, but when he tried to leave a pair of arms latched around his waist.

"Don't leave me here alone!"

Looking down into Liam's terrified eyes, terrified that if Kalem left without him he'd never see him again, the seventeen-year-old looked to Lord Hargren. Liam, for all he had begun to smile again, for all that he had the pendant from his friend, was still insecure.

"Will the knights mind if Liam rides with me?"

Understanding that Liam would become hysterical if left, Hargren nodded in agreement to the request.

"He may go with you. You can place him at a distance from any of the fighting, so he will be perfectly safe."

The three of them headed for the manor and the garrison, Liam unaware of what they would be helping with. Kalem decided not to tell him, knowing it would be kinder that way. Gavin may have gone bad, but for five years he had still been a father figure for the boy. He couldn't tell Liam what he intended to do... that he intended to end the gang's nightmare once and for all.

~(-)~

It was late afternoon when Kalem brought the band of knights to a halt with a raised hand. It had been an interesting trip from Ulwin to this point, one or two of the warriors looking a bit put out when Lord Hargren had informed them Kalem would be their advisor and effectively second in command of the mission. That had lasted all of thirty seconds, until the seventeen-year-old relayed a complex series of instructions to them with nothing but a few small hand movements... Movements near identical to those the knights used to coordinate with their allies silently. It was clear that Kalem knew more than enough to be at least grudgingly respected, although he wasn't about to tell him the gang had learnt those signals so they could spy on soldiers and know what they were about to do.

The squad of knights now within a grove of trees about a mile from their destination, Kalem now got down from his horse and helped Liam down as well. He then pulled out the map he'd requested from Lord Hargren, laying it out and waving for the knights to gather around.

"Not far from here a ridge of stone rises from the ground and continues for about half a mile. It's the same line of stone that forms the Ridge of Ascetir far south of us, but here it doesn't rise anywhere near as high. A stream used to flow along its base, until a landslide towards the north end diverted it. That steam has carved a gully beside the ridge, creating a lower ridge in parallel to it... That lower side is where they will have placed their archer, where attackers will least expect it."

The captain of the squad knelt down, looking at the area of the map Kalem was pointing to.

"Then we should come at them from that side, and take the high ground."

"No." The knight looked a bit offended when Kalem overrode his statement, but the young man wasn't fazed in the slightest as he explained. "I'll take out the archer, but you all need to come along the gully itself. It's possible to climb out of if you know where to, but even so it will allow you to corner them... If you come from the height, they'll just run out of the gully and disappear into the woods. And if you tried to jump down from there in your armour, you'd be lucky if you only break your ankles. Also, we all need to be on foot. The horses can be left a short distance away, but the gully itself is strewn with rocks. It wouldn't be wise to take them in there."

The captain frowned for a moment, before nodding in acceptance. Kalem knew the terrain around here, and he didn't. If the youth said this was the best way, then he would listen to Lord Hargren's orders and trust the advice.

He stood up straight, addressing his men.

"You heard him. From this point on I want total silence. We don't want to give them any warning that we're coming."

Everyone mounted up; Kalem once again taking the lead with the horse he and Liam were sharing. He'd been careful not to use the word 'gang', or mention any names. It was just lucky this camping site was one Liam hadn't been to before. He would leave the boy with the horses, so that he wouldn't have to face the knowledge that they would be fighting former comrades and friends.

In this case, ignorance really was bliss, for Kalem himself was suffering some internal conflict with all this. He knew the gang had to be stopped, had to be punished, but he too could not forget that for just over eleven years they had been his family and his life... And now, in effect, he was going to destroy them.

His expression remained grim when they reached where they would leave the horses, Kalem lifting Liam down before crouching to put his head at the boy's level.

"I need you to stay here. You don't need to worry about me. I won't be in the middle of the fighting. I'll just be getting rid of the archer so the knights can do the rest. But I can't do that if I have to worry about you, which means you need to wait here until I come back. Ok?"

Liam looked uncertain and unhappy, but nodded all the same.

"Ok..."

Kalem smiled, standing straight again and leading the knights away. He took them along the path with the most cover, before leaving them in a dense thicket within line of sight of the gully entrance. He then circled around to the east, silently moving through the undergrowth until he reached a spot where he could see a lone figure sat behind a rock on the lower side of the old streambed.

He lifted his bow from his back and looped the string from his pocket between the ends, pulling an arrow from his quiver and setting it to that cord. He then drew the bow, whispering an incantation as he did so.

"_Beon uswicende, me flan._"

His eyes gleamed gold amid the shadows of his hiding place, the snap of the string being released lost among the sounds of wind and birdsong. The now enchanted arrow ignored those winds, unaffected by them, flying straight and true until took the unsuspecting Ril right in the eye.

The archer immediately and silently slumped over, dead before he'd even been aware he'd been hit. Kalem spared him a moment of regret, but only a moment, before moving closer to the gully edge where his signal would reach the ears of the waiting knights.

The eerie whistle caused the gang below to look around in confusion, it being the one Kalem always used to use when spooking superstitious drunks for laughs. That they were hearing it now meant he was near, their expressions clearly showing some were wondering if he'd suddenly chosen to come back.

"Kalem! Is that you, you ungrateful little git? Get your arse down here!"

Gavin's shout echoed out of the gully, but the sorcerer didn't respond to it. His choice of the whistle as his signal had been purely to distract them, and in that respect it was working perfectly.

The gang waited for him to appear, but he did not, muttering springing up among them. The remained distracted until the faint rattle of armour reached their ears, and only then did they realise that this time it was _they_ who had been tricked.

Shouts of alarm went up, the gang diving for cover when a clatter of crossbow bolts rained down on their position. The knights themselves took cover at the gully entrance, using a couple of large boulders and the sides to shelter from a volley of the same.

Kalem watched the fight from his vantage point, twelve feet above the streambed where he had a perfect view of the battle. But he wasn't sitting idly, not at all. Instead he was making it hard for _both_ sides to score any hits.

The air within the gully stirred and twitched in the space between the two groups of combatants, knocking bolts slightly off course no matter which way they were going. In the past he had done this and isolated the breezes so he only interfered with enemy arrows, but this time he wanted to stop injuries on both sides. The knights, with their extensive training for battle, would have far more stamina than the gang. Added to the fact that it would be clear to Gavin what Kalem was doing, the leader turned thug would quickly become frustrated, and that was what Kalem wanted.

It didn't take long for the realisation to sink in; the man's vehement cursing of his nephew audible even over the noise of crossbow bolts bouncing off of rocks or shattering. Both sides were running low on them, some resorting to picking up undamaged or only lightly damaged shafts from around them to fire back at their opponents once they had none left in their quivers.

Eventually Gavin could take it no more, as seeing as he knew Kalem was stopping _any_ shots from hitting people, he drew his sword and came out of cover to charge at the knight's position...

...Three strides from cover and he stopped in his tracks, an arrow that ignored the twitching winds sprouting between his ribs. His choked gasp brought silence, both sides lowering weapons for a moment as he slowly turned his head in search of his killer.

His eyes settled on Kalem, the young man standing there silhouetted against the sky, before the youth drew another arrow to his bowstring and fired again... the instant Uren came out of cover to go to the aid of the now collapsing leader.

The second arrow took Uren in the neck, both men slumping to the ground to choke out their final breaths. Meanwhile the gang could only stare at Kalem in disbelief at what he'd just done, paralysed by the sight of his cold expression... He had made a promise to Gavin, and he had kept it.

Unbeknownst to him, to the gang, and to the knights, however, was that they were not the only ones watching this scene. Just a short way along the gully top from where the sorcerer stood, wide green eyes stared at the scene in horror just as the warriors from Camelot recovered and began to charge down the narrow space.

Liam stiffened when he saw them move, his frantic gaze shifting to where the remainder of the gang were still in shock. His eyes then settled on two figures that cowered far behind the rest, two friends who even now were refusing to fight.

"Katia! Jarl!"

Liam scrambled over the gully edge, sliding down the steep side and sprinting towards the two he'd called for. It never occured to him that Kalem would never allow them to be harmed, or that he'd promised him he would stay out of danger. All he could think of was that he was about to lose yet more of the people he thought of as his family.

Kalem jolted when he heard Liam's voice, staring in disbelief when the boy slid down into the gully and right into the path of the knights. Liam was blind to the danger, and blind to everything but his objective... and their sight obscured by the rising dust they stirred the knights hadn't seen him.

He threw himself down the twelve-foot drop, cushioning his landing with a puff of wind, before throwing himself into Liam's path. The moment his arms closed around the boy, he flung one hand up in the direction of the knights and screamed out that which would save Liam but condemn himself.

"_Gescildan!_"

The magical barrier filled the width of the gully, the knights slamming into it yelling in surprise. When he saw the captain lift his visor and stare at him, others of the knights muttering about him being a sorcerer, Kalem closed his eyes and lowered his head, knowing that his life with Liam was over.

"Kalem?"

Liam's small whimper reached his ears, triggered by the tear that had landed on his head. Kalem looked down at him, yet more tears in his eyes, before sudden movement by some of the gang caused him to stand straight and glare at them.

The move was enough to stop them in their tracks, his voice ringing harshly within the confined area of the gully.

"_Enough... _I swayed the battle to prevent serious injuries, in the hope that when Gavin, Uren, and Ril were dead, the rest of you would have sense enough to _flee_ when you realised you couldn't win. Those three were the instigators of the attacks on the merchants, and_ none _of you would have gone down this path if not for them. By staying and fighting you've decided your fates, so all you can do now if choose the fates of the gang's youngest members." He pointed to the two figures still cowering behind the rest of them, who hadn't moved at all since the fight had started. "You can surrender, so that Lord Hargren can cast merciful judgement against Jarl and Katia. The two soldiers who got away from you the other day, _saw _that neither of them would help you hurt them. You _are_ going to die, but it's up to you to decide if you die here and take them down with you. Instead you can die a quick and dignified death at the gallows, knowing your actions saved the youngest of us... The ones it was always the gang's code, to protect and shelter."

No one moved for what seemed an eternity, before one of the remaining adults dropped his weapon and the rest followed suit. With Gavin, Uren, and Ril dead, Kalem really was the only one who could have led them.

"...Then for their sake, we will surrender."

Kalem turned to the knights, who were unsure what to make of this strange situation.

"I know I've decided my fate by revealing myself as a sorcerer, so I ask you, as Knights of Camelot and men of honour, to grant me this request. Accept the gang's and my surrender, and ask Lord Hargren to spare Jarl and Katia from the gallows. If you don't, you will force me to fight back, because I _swore _to myself I would use my power to protect the innocent and the helpless. Jarl and Katia are just that, and I _will_ stand and fight if you try to condemn them."

His plea finished, Kalem pulled Liam close for a moment and hugged him tightly. He then pushed him towards the knights, using a gust of wind to stop him turning back before backing up to stand with the gang.

The captain took hold of the bewildered boy, passing him to another of the knights before nodding solemnly. A plea to their honour, despite coming from a sorcerer, would not be ignored. Not when that same sorcerer had just literally sacrificed himself. That he would be a prisoner would be enough, the capture and subsequent execution of a sorcerer would be enough to keep the king happy.

"We will accept the terms... Leave all weapons behind and come forward quietly." He regarded Kalem sternly. "If you make any move to use magic, we will kill you on the spot."

The gang did as they were told, the knights forming a vanguard around them. But it was not the knights who kept the gang in close file, but rather the last shreds of their honour and their last grasp to the code they had once been respected for. Kalem had returned, killed their former leader and taken his place, and now they would follow him to their deaths for the sakes of those dearest to them.

~(-)~

The man hurried through the hallways, out into the night-darkened grounds and to the garrison with a degree of haste that few of his servants had ever seen. His expression was one of mixed denial and shock, no one he passed willing to ask him what was wrong.

Hargren made his way into the garrison compound, almost _running_ towards the central building that housed the facility's prison. Soldiers and knights alike quickly got out of his way, clearing his path to the stairway that led down to the damp confinement below. He heard the wailing and screaming long before he saw the source, his heart filling with regret when he saw the boy.

Liam was hysterical, trying to scratch and bite the knight holding him, stopped by the man's armour, screaming denials and begging for his best friend to be set free.

Hargren looked to the cell that the boy strained towards, his eyes becoming shadowed when he saw the shackled young man within.

Kalem stared back unflinchingly, before inclining his head to indicate the next cell over.

"It was agreed that Jarl and Katia, who never took part in the murders, would be given lighter sentences. The rest of the gang willingly surrendered in exchange for that."

Hargren hesitated, before barking an order to the guards.

"Take the two of them to the secure section of the farms. They are sentenced to ten years, after which, if they have behaved, they will be offered the chance to continue working on them for a set wage."

Jarl and Katia quickly led out of their cell, looking at Kalem as they passed his by.

"Thanks, Kalem."

"Thank you, Kalem."

Kalem watched them be led out, before getting to his feet and coming as far forward as his chains would let him. He then looked at Liam, whose wails now quietened to sobs, his voice soothing as he spoke.

"Don't blame yourself for this Liam, I chose this path myself. I just want you to remember that, no matter what, I will always think of you as my little brother. Live a long and happy life, Liam. Live it knowing I will always be with you in memory and spirit."

Liam began to wail again, screaming at the top of his lungs, and seeing the plea in Kalem's eyes, Hargren gave his order.

"Take him to the guardroom up above and wait for me there. I will deal with him once I am done here."

"Yes, Sir."

The knight picked the writhing, screaming Liam up, carrying him up the stairs and out of sight. As soon as he was out of earshot, Hargren moved right up to the cell bars to look at the man within.

"I should have guessed you were a sorcerer... when you said you'd been tutored by a druid."

Kalem let out a small snort.

"I know it really should have been obvious. But then everyone knows the best way to keep a secret, is not to try too hard. The more lies you tell to hide it, the more likely you are to get found out."

Hargren regarded him regretfully, sighing.

"...That was a very noble thing you did, a very honourable sacrifice. It's just a pity that Uther would not look at it that way, but he blinds himself to much regarding magic. If only he would accept that there are many who use it who put knights and nobles to shame. You stand facing execution, and yet even now you continue to put the welfare of your friends and companions first... I just wish I was in a position to be able to offer you mercy, but by the laws of Camelot, I cannot. If I were to set you free, it would mean turning Uther against Ulwin and all the people in it. There would be no telling how many would be hurt if I fought against him."

Kalem nodded in understanding, before speaking after a small pause.

"...If you wish to offer me mercy, then have me sent to Camelot for my punishment to be carried out there... I do not want it to happen here in Ulwin, where Liam might see me burn."

Hargren also paused, frowning a little at the request before slowly nodding.

"It will be done."

He turned to leave, Kalem's last words to him echoing in his ears.

"You can tell Liam where I was sent and for what, but don't tell him what happened after I was taken from here... I don't want him to have reasons to run away from Ulwin, when I know you will take good care of him."

Hargren left the dungeons and once again came into range of Liam's screams. The boy was quickly becoming hoarse, the long day and the present late time both serving to exhaust him. The lord had two guards assist in getting the boy to the manor and up to a guest room, where Hargren used a key from the ring of them on his belt to lock the door once Liam was inside. But he'd barely gone three strides down the hall before the lock clicked and Liam charged out, a quick hand snatching purse from belt and a ring from a finger before he sprinted down the hall.

The boy ran, his mind focused on freeing Kalem. But to do that he had to escape first, and the money he'd just stolen would get supplies. After that he could help his friend and both of them could run away from Ulwin...

The desperate dream was shattered when a gloved hand grabbed him by the arm, another taking him by the scruff of the neck before he was dragged back to at startled Lord Hargren.

The man took back his purse and ring, regarding them and the no longer locked door. He then indicated with a gesture that the guard put Liam back inside.

"Search him and make sure he has nothing else on him that can be used to pick locks." The guard obliged, stripping Liam of his hidden collection of picks that he still carried out of habit. As soon as that was done, Hargren stood at the doorway and sighed. "You're clearly a bright and intelligent boy, and you would want to waste that on a helpless cause."

Liam clenched his fists, his tear-reddened eyes once again welling up in pain.

"_Let him go!_"

"I cannot..." Hargren took a deep breath, his eyes fixing sternly on the boy. "Liam, you have two choices right now so I suggest you consider them carefully. You can be sentenced to several years of hard labour, or you can accept an education and a job here within the manor. Before you make up your mind, think what your friend Kalem would want you to do. There will be no escape for him, not with Camelot's laws against magic. He will be securely confined and then transported to the city, to be burnt at the stake for the crime of sorcery, and there is nothing you or I can do about it. So tell me, which path do you chose?"

Liam stared at him, lost and frightened, before his hand went to something beneath his shirt as the tears in his eyes started to fall.

"...H-He'd want me to have the best future I can..." He choked back a sob, biting his lip before bowing his head in guilt for what to him seemed betrayal. "...I accept you offer of a place in the manor... My Lord."

The pain in those words struck Hargren to the core, but he forced himself to remain composed. Instead he nodded, before starting to close the door.

"Get some rest, Liam. Tomorrow will begin the rest of your life... The life Kalem has sacrificed so much to ensure you have."

The door thudded closed, the lock snapping shut with a note of finality. From within the room he could hear Liam starting to sob, crying out his grief, and outside that room he himself had to fight not to shed tears in sympathy. No matter the outcome of the next few days, the future would be hard for both of them.

~(-)~

**Alaia Skyhawk: (Is presently bawling eyes out)**


	31. Resentment 'Part 1'

**Alaia Skyhawk: (Is still sniffling at the end part of the previous chapter) Here's the next bit guys.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Merlin TV series etc, but I do own the star of this fic... LIAM!**

**Music: Merlin Lost (Merlin OST ~Piano cover done by a person on Youtube I can't recall the name of~) Lancelot Leaves, Fighting in the Market, Hunith's letter to Gaius (Merlin OST) **

~(-)~

Chapter 31: Resentment ~Part 1~

The pale autumn sunlight had slowly crossed the floor as the morning had passed by, its progress unnoticed by the young boy sat at the window. His unmoving silhouette had been etched from that light, although his shadow could not reflect the tears he was now too numb to shed.

Liam remained where he was, silent as he stared out of the window with his head leaning against the frame. He'd opened it a little a while ago, but instead of the chatter of servants outside and the sound of birds he'd also been able to hear the death knell of drumbeats coming from the garrison. It had only lasted about fifteen minutes, long enough for the handful of remaining gang members to be hung, but it had seemed to last much longer to his tortured soul.

Not long after that he'd seen the squad of knights they'd been with, riding out of the manor gates. They'd been in formation around a cart of sorts, which looked like a cage on wheels. He hadn't been able to see who was in it, but it didn't take much to guess... It had been Kalem, on his way to Camelot to be executed by King Uther.

Liam bit his lip at that thought, a hint of tears welling up in his eyes again. It just wasn't _fair!_ Kalem had never hurt anyone with his magic except in self-defence or to protect people. He'd _dreamed_ about showing the world that magic could be trusted, and now he was never going to get to do that...

The lock of the room's door clicked, a maid entering with a tray of food. She took it over to the table; pulling back the chair she'd set it before and glancing over to him.

Her expression was sympathetic.

"I know this is difficult for you, but you should eat. Sitting at the window all day won't change anything."

Liam remained silent, just as he had when she'd brought breakfast to him, and then removed it later when she came back to find he hadn't touched it. Just as she did then, she let out a small sigh and left the tray on the table. She would return in an hour or two, to check on him, but otherwise she'd been instructed not to pressure him.

Once she was gone, the door once again locked, Liam gave that barrier a single disinterested glance before resuming his gazing out the window. What did he care? He didn't have _anything_ left. He'd lost everyone...

His mother, Elias, and Helen.

His father.

Alan, who had gone somewhere after giving up on looking for him.

The gang that had cared for him.

...And now Kalem...

He leaned his head against the frame of the window again, thinking about the sorcerer. Despite Kalem's words, he still blamed himself for what had happened. That if he'd only _listened _and stayed with the horses, then Kalem wouldn't have been forced to use magic to protect him. At the same time though, he also thought about the gang. Kalem had killed Gavin and Uren, and Ril would have been the archer he'd mentioned to the knights. He'd hidden from him that the gang had been the ones hurting the travellers... Tried to shield him when Hargren asked for his help to bring them down.

Liam remained there, his green eyes dull and without hint or trace of the happy boy he'd been before all this had started. Before that day fire and blade had taken the first of those dear to him from him. Not caring at all what fate lay ahead for him, because without Kalem beside him it didn't matter anymore...

~(-)~

The sounds of the horses surrounded him, along with the creak of the cage wagon and the rattle of armour and tack. Occasionally they would be joined by the jangle of chains, as he shifted his position in the back of that cart to get comfortable after being in one posture for too long.

Kalem leaned against the rear door of the cage, watching the knights and the passing scenery as though indifferent to the fate that awaited him. This was something that had always been a possibility, ever since he first discovered his magic. He could have abandoned it back then, but he'd chosen to pursue it in the belief that one day he would be able to help make a difference to the world. That one day he would be able to prove to all people everywhere that Uther was _wrong_ about magic. That it wasn't something to be feared and hated, but rather something to be cherished and respected.

He smiled to himself at that, remembering something he'd thought back when Nellan had first told him he had the potential to be a High Priest of the Old Religion. Back when the druid had taught him the prophecy about Emrys and the Once and Future King. For a while he'd toyed with the idea that maybe _he_ was Emrys, that _he_ would be the one to restore magic to the land. He had to admit he'd continued to entertain such thoughts on occasion, until another significant day when he'd come to realise the ignominy of his _true_ destiny...

Merlin, a boy the same age as Liam, was the _real_ Emrys... He would be twelve now, and no doubt still friends with that other boy, William. He would also still be oblivious to the grand destiny that awaited him, when time came that he began to walk that road. Right now he was still a child, but like the mighty oak with time he would stand tall and strong and proud... He would stand beside Prince Arthur, who like him was right now just a child. Neither of them knew the path ahead, but one day they would.

Kalem sighed, bowing his head with a smile. It might seem strange to do, _smile_ when you're on your way to being burnt at the stake, but he had his reasons. That smile became a chuckle as he eyed his chains, the sorcerer murmuring to himself too quiet for the knights to hear.

"...There's a lot more to my destiny than letting myself burn, and I _did _promise myself I wanted to see the future that that kid, Merlin, would help create. So _do_ I want to burn?" His smile widened ever so slightly, his expression becoming wry. "...Nah, I think I'll pass."

An equally quiet murmur of 'tospringe' unlocked his chains, another the rear door of the cage. Within less time than it took for the horses to take three strides he kicked himself backwards out of it, flipping over to land on his feet while in the same movement throwing the shackles from his wrists and ankles right into the faces of the two knights riding behind the wagon... The stupid clunks hadn't been wearing their helmets.

"_He's escaping! The sorcerer is loose!_"

Kalem heard the shout, breaking into a wicked smile as he recited a spell.

"_Aer frice to me gewill!_"

His eyes gleamed gold and stayed that way, as the spell gave him easy access to his affinity. In seconds the fresh carpet of this autumn's leaves rose up in a mass of chaotic winds, the knights covering their eyes and trying to control their squealing horses within the maelstrom.

The captain was one of the few who had his helmet on, and he used it to shield his eyes so he could charge at the smirking sorcerer. Kalem simply sidestepped the horse, while the captain screamed curses.

"_Stop messing around, you imbeciles! Forget the damn leaves and get him!_"

Kalem directed one last grin at him, before stirring up the leaves again and hightailing it with his taunting shout carrying back to them.

"I used to use magic to undo locks for a living! Did you _really_ think that cage could hold me! Just because I surrendered before, doesn't mean I'm going to _stay_ surrendered!"

He kept running, laughing in exhilaration. When you have magic, doing something like this sent a _thrill_ through you. He felt like his blood was on fire, his heart pounding, and all the while he was in the middle of the biggest adrenaline rush of his life.

The knights managed to orient themselves, the last of the leaves falling away. By this time though, Kalem was nearly a hundred yards away through the trees, and heading for somewhere he knew they couldn't follow. The knights charged after him, the captain levelling his crossbow at Kalem's back, but just before he could start to pull the trigger, the sorcerer set down his next stride and started to turn on that single foothold.

Kalem waved at them cheerily before falling from sight, and that was the only warning the knights had to slow down. Their horses' hooves dug grooves into the forest floor, as they skidded to a halt just a few feet from the edge of a stream crevice. The knights heard a laugh echo up from below, followed by a spray of windborne water that arched up and over them drenching them to the skin. The sorcerer had gotten away and was out of reach, and down in the crevice they couldn't see which way he'd gone... Kalem had _escaped_...

~(-)~

"Do you mean to tell me that a squad of Camelot's _finest_ knights... allowed _one_ lone sorcerer, who was caged and in _chains_, to escape?"

Hargren frowned at the knight who stood before him, staring at this unfortunate soul who had been the one to turn back and inform him of what had occured. Then again, he wasn't really _that_ unfortunate, in fact he was probably the most blessed... He would not be there when the captain of the squad had to explain things to Uther.

The knight flushed slightly, bowing his head in apology.

"On behalf of my fellow knights, I express my sincerest apologies for this failure. We underestimated him because he had surrendered to us, and he took advantage of that."

"Indeed he did..." Hargren clasped his hands across his lap, leaning back in his chair the image of a displeased lord. "You are dismissed, and are to return to Camelot immediately. You may requisition a fresh horse from the stables, but that is the only concession I grant you."

The knight bowed, backing up a step before turning for the door.

"Yes, Lord Hargren."

Hargren watched him leave, waiting... Waiting for the door to close before his frown changed to a pleased smile. He chuckled before sitting straight, setting his hands on his desk and mulling over this minor victory against a law he had never agreed with.

"Kalem. You asked me to send you to Camelot, asked me for the chance to escape. Had you been put to the stake here, it would have been impossible without killing or seriously hurting people, and that is something you would refuse to do just to save your life." He sighed, his smile fading. "And you also asked me not to tell Liam if you escaped, to hide from him that you are alive... because you do not want him to go looking for you." His eyes strayed to the map on the wall, wondering just where the sorcerer would go. He could not begin to guess, except that it would _far_ away from Camelot. One day he might well return, but it would a long time in coming. "Be careful, Kalem. Even if he does not know you are alive, I am sure there will be a part of him that will always wait for you to come back... Do not disappoint him."

With that the lord rose to his feet, leaving his study with a lighter heart than he'd known for a while. It was true he would be hiding the truth from Liam, but he would keep his silent promise to the boy's friend. This was the best way for both of them.

~(-)~

**Alaia Skyhawk: SURPRISE! So did you really think I'd kill him? (Grins evilly) Sorry Emachinescat for keeping you in the dark about what I had planned, but I **_**really**_** wanted to see your reaction, hehehehehe XD**

**On a side note, I can tell you all that Kalem won't be appearing in this fic again. But... (Holds up a hand to stop the readers from maiming) ...he WILL appear at some point during the Season 4 section of A Question of Motives! :D**


	32. Resentment 'Part 2'

**Alaia Skyhawk: Me thinks a lot of people were happy at the end of the last chapter. I got enough reviews for it to push this fic past the 200 reviews mark! Thanks everyone for all your support :D**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Merlin TV series etc, but I do own the star of this fic... LIAM!**

**Music: Hunith's Letter to Gaius (Merlin OST)**

~(-)~

Chapter 32: Resentment ~Part 2~

Few people here seemed to notice him, or at least only gave him a barest passing glance. Word of him and his circumstances had spread quickly during the past week, but now the interest was fading.

Liam followed along behind the maid in charge of maintaining the guest rooms, carrying a pile of sheets for her. He'd been moved out of the guest room and into a permanent room in the servants' wing, but to keep him occupied and try to get him to settle in properly, he'd been instructed to help her with her duties. The problem was that here inside the manor, just sending him around in the shadow of a maid wasn't going to do much.

Outside in the town it would have. Everyone out there knew his family and sympathised with him, but here inside the estate walls was a different world altogether. Only a handful of the staff were local to Ulwin and its lands, the rest coming from Camelot or elsewhere in the kingdom, and some even from lands further still. None of these distant strangers wanted anything in particular to do with him, not once another rumour had circulated about how he had once been a part of the gang who had been recently brought in and executed. Once again Gavin's actions were affecting his life, marking him like a stigma so that few wanted to associate with him... It left him feeling even more isolated, and more angry.

Liam sighed ever so slightly, careful not to draw the maid's attention. He had nothing against her, but at the same time didn't want her pity. His regret for not staying with the horses that day had turned to depression, and his grief over Kalem had changed to anger and resentment towards the world as a whole. He felt bitter and isolated, and that some of the servants were going out of their way to ignore him only made him feel more so. He was a commoner, used to the streets and wilds, thrust into a place at the heart of high society. If some of the servants ignoring him on purpose was bad, then the way some of the nobles looked down on him was worse. They didn't even know him, and yet already they were looking down on him...

Looking down at the sheets he head, his head lowered to hide his expression, he scowled to himself. It just wasn't fair, none of it was. This whole kingdom, with its laws against magic, just seemed rotten when compared to the kindness that had been Kalem. Kalem had stood for all that was good and bright about magic. He'd never let those laws stop him being who he was, and never let them stop him dreaming, and now those laws had taken that away from him. His dream was gone, he was gone, and all that was left behind was a young boy who had lost everything and everyone he'd ever cared about.

Continuing to follow the maid, Liam sighed again in unhappiness, unaware that someone was watching him.

Hargren waited until the boy and the maid were gone, before emerging from one of the alcoves lining the hall they'd been walking along. He'd done this a few times over the past handful of days, trying to fathom if Liam were starting to settle in. But from the boy's expression he could see he was not, a feeling of concern rising in the lord's heart.

He headed in the opposite direction to where Liam had gone, ascending a number of stairways until he arrived outside of a set of chambers where five years ago a father and two sons had delivered a carved cabinet. He did not bother to knock on the door, instead entering quietly and calling out softly as he did so.

"Jancine? Are you awake?"

To his right, in the smaller of the two connected rooms, he heard the sound of blankets moving. A female voice called out, firm and confident in reply.

"Yes, I am... Don't just stand at the door, Hargren. _Come in_ since it's so clear you wish to speak to me about something."

Hargren smiled to himself and did as was bidden, walking to the arch that connected the two rooms. From there he could see his wife, whose strong voice belied her true condition. She'd been ill for most of a year, and not even Camelot's Court Physician, Gaius, had been able to prescribe a cure. The old man had been sent to visit by Uther not long after she became bedridden, but had been unable to do more than make her comfortable... He had also warned that unless she made some clear sign of recovery, Jancine likely would not be able to walk unaided ever again.

These chambers were now where she spent her days, remaining in bed unless her maid helped her to the table in the main room. Such efforts always left her tired though, and more and more now she did not leave her bed at all except to bathe, and even that was a struggle.

He arrived at her bedside, pulling a nearby chair into place and sitting where he could reach out and hold her hand. He missed the days when she would come to his study, and he could confide in her there. Now it was he who came to her, and oft for the same reason. He wanted her advice.

"I've set Liam to help the maid who maintains the guest rooms, since she was the first of the staff he had the chance to properly meet. I'd hoped it would help him settle, but instead he's becoming more withdrawn. Also, many of the staff are showing no interest in him or in some cases are deliberately ignoring him. I fear the circumstances he has come from are working against him."

Jancine regarded him for a long moment, before shaking her head in disbelief.

"Dear, this is no different from when you were discretely forcing the nobles of our court to accept socialising with craftsmen from among commoners. You simply have to make it plain to the staff that Liam is our guest, and they have to treat him with at least reasonable respect."

"And how do you propose I do that, without openly stating it?"

Hargren regarded her with that dilemma, one he faced all too often. As Lord of Ulwin, he had to maintain a certain face with the people, and verbally speaking out on Liam's behalf wasn't something he could do.

Jancine smiled, looking quite proud of herself.

"Why do it the same way as you did for the nobles... Make a gesture of regard, and invite Liam to dine with you a few times each week. He _is_ effectively our ward, even if we cannot admit it, and showing a more vested interest in his well being as a child will not be frowned on. If any of the nobles query it, you can simply say that you have taken him in as a mark of your respect for his parents... Who worked so hard and gave us so much support when we were bringing these lands back from the brink of poverty."

He sighed, considering her suggestion.

"Do you really think that will work?"

She raised her eyebrows.

"It will certainly tell at least the staff that he's not to be mistreated." She squeezed his hand, her expression reflecting her concern for Liam. "He _needs_ a parental figure right now, and even if you cannot truly be that to him in public, you can at least be it in private. He needs to know we care about him, and leaving him with only a maid for support is not the way to do that. You might as well have abandoned him right now, or that is how it will seem to him. He's been hurt too much to make the first step himself, so you're going to have to do it instead."

Hargren nodded, accepting her advice.

"I will begin this evening, and let you know how it goes."

He got up from his seat, but remained standing where he was when she spoke again.

"Tomorrow is the day you usually dine with Tarven, isn't it?"

Hargren frowned, but nodded all the same.

"Yes. Why do you ask?"

She tilted her head/

"Have Liam dine with you tonight to break the ice, and again tomorrow so that he can meet our son. Perhaps he too can help him settle. They are after all, both the same age."

"...With very different backgrounds."

Jancine waved a hand dismissively, shaking her head.

"Which will serve as a distraction for Liam. If he's dealing with people different from those he's used to, then the easier it will be for him to adjust to life here in the manor. He won't be constantly and painfully reminded of what he's lost. All it requires on your part is that you carry out the introduction tactfully."

Hargren sighed, resigning himself to the situation. His wife knew children well, a lot better than he did, and if she said a careful introduction between Liam and their son might be of help, then he would follow her advice.

Thanking her and leaning it to place a kiss on her cheek, he left her chambers to begin arranging things for this evening. With any luck, this would be a turning point for Liam, and it couldn't come a moment too soon.

~(-)~

**Alaia Skyhawk: There's the next bit :)**


	33. Resentment 'Part 3'

**Alaia Skyhawk: Here I am, coming to you from my nice new shiny PC! Yeah, I got sick of my laptop's incredibly slow boot-up time (despite all my attempts to fix it short of wiping my entire hard drive and doing a full reinstall) and got myself a PC seeing as if anything breaks on this in a few years time, it's a hell of a lot easier and cheaper to fix a PC than a laptop. Another factor in my decision also being the fact that my laptop has the dreaded "plugged in, not charging" fault, and relies on mains power. If the AC jack on it went, it could be weeks before I could get things sorted, and during that time there would be NO UPDATES (Insert screams of horror)... So it's time to break this baby in with a new chapter for this fic... ONWARDS!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Merlin TV series etc, but I do own the star of this fic... LIAM!**

**Music: Hunith's Letter to Gaius (Merlin OST)**

~(-)~

Chapter 33: Resentent ~Part 3~

It was with an air of restless uncertainty that he paced, secluded within his chambers while waiting for the time to go to the small dining hall. He couldn't help but view last night as a failure, and dread tonight as the appointed hour approached...

Hargren sat himself in the high-backed chair near his fire, frowning to himself as he folded his hands across his lap. Just as his wife had recommended, he had invited Liam to dine with him. The boy had come, escorted along a purposefully well-walked route by none other than the lord's personal manservant, and spent the entire evening either in silence or uttering the shortest possible answers to any questions posed to him.

In short it had been just short of a nightmare situation, and the only good that had come was that today more of the staff were showing an interest in the boy. If Lord Hargren considered him worth the honour of having him dine with him, then he was worth being polite to in case he became politically advantageous later... Well, political in the sense of the constant wrangling among the staff. There were times when he had to admit that the alliances and passing of favours among those he employed rivalled those of the nobility they served, and some of them could be just as ruthless.

Still waiting for the time to leave, Hargren sighed at that thought. He would have to ensure that Liam was protected from certain individuals among the staff. They would act friendly towards him, but only for the chance of personal gain. He would not give them the opportunity.

The toll of a single bell echoed from outside, announcing the arrival of sunset. Following that cue, he rose from his seat and headed for the door, leaving his chambers and hoping tonight would be better. At least tonight Tarven would be present as well, giving an additional chance of striking up a proper conversation with his young ward. He knew his son was likely to be a bit against this, but with luck then at least maybe he and Liam could be amiable with each other as Prince Arthur was with his father's ward, Morgana.

Hargren chuckled to himself at that. The Lady Morgana, young as she was, had built quite a reputation. She was strong-willed and opinionated, and not at all impressed by the bravado and posturing of young noblemen around her age. Some young men had tried to show off to her, and others had tried to please her with gifts. However, all they had gotten in response was a small smile and a slightly aloof regard. She had no interest in the posturing of those who admired her purely for her looks or her lineage.

Caught in his musings, it seemed no time at all before he arrived at the small dining hall. His son was already there, waiting, rising to his feet when his father entered. But today, unlike the usual, he did not offer the slight smile he usually did. The reason was clear when one looked at the other individual present, a quiet and withdrawn boy who avoided looking the lord in the eye.

Hargren smiled to them both, walking to his seat at the head of the table and glancing to the right at his son when he reached it.

"Tarven, as you can see we have an additional guest tonight. This is Liam, Alan Morranson's brother. You remember Alan from the banquets, do you not?"

The twelve-year-old started to frown but quickly corrected it, nodding as he answered.

"I do, father. How could I forget the man, who has been called the finest carpenter to grace Ulwin in the twenty years since you came to lead it?" Tarven looked across the table, annoyed at this situation but treating it no differently from the many banquets he'd attended. "I am Tarven, and it is a... pleasure... to dine with you this evening. Your brother was indeed a credit to Ulwin before his departure."

Liam flinched, biting his lip, before lifting his eyes just high enough to see the other youth's chin and speaking.

"Thank you, Lord Tarven... I'm sure he'd be glad to hear you say that."

An awkward silence followed, Tarven glancing at his father to note a quickly concealed wince. Hargren was inwardly cursing himself, for by phrasing the introduction to get his son to accept this, he had inadvertently done what having him here was supposed to avoid. Instead of _distracting_ Liam from what he'd lost, all he'd done was _remind_ him.

Unable to change anything now, he indicated they should sit and with a hand signalled to the nearby servants to begin serving the meal. What followed was as much a failure as the previous evening, and it was with great relief that he dismissed both boys when the meal was over. Whatever might have been achieved by this, it was tainted now by his own bad choice of words. He would have to speak to his wife and see what else she could recommend.

~(-)~

The expression in the young lord's brown eyes was slightly uncertain, as he watched his unexpected dining partner being led away by his father's manservant.

Tarven frowned for a moment, thinking over what had happened and sighing. His father was at it again, it seemed, going out of his way to be sympathetic to a commoner.

He turned and walked in the opposite direction, making his way towards the noble' wing where his chambers were located. A few years ago he might have voiced a comment about the strange evening, a comment about not wanting to dine with Liam. He'd learnt his lesson regarding tact, though, and now kept his opinions to himself. Not that he was particularly bothered about tonight, for all it was usually a _private_ evening with his father. He could not deny what he had said about Liam's brother. He'd met Alan any number of times, and the man had never failed to be respectful and polite. He'd walked among the nobles at banquets as though he were one of them, and yet at the same time had never seemed presumptuous for doing so... He hated to admit it, but there were _some_ commoners who were worth respecting even if he didn't personally like to.

Striding through the halls, the frown returned to his face. He'd heard the rumours about Liam, of course, but at the same time he'd long since learnt from his father about the gang the boy had belonged to. The kid had been a thief, but for most of the last five years the gang he'd been part of were honourable and tolerated. After what the gang had done recently, most people had forgotten that, but it didn't change the fact that he also knew from his father that Liam and his friend had left them for that reason. They'd come to Ulwin and gotten jobs, like true honourable citizens, and then that friend, Kalem, had sacrificed himself to save the lives of two gang members who hadn't taken part in the killings.

The frown became bemused, and once again he was confronted with a commoner who was actually _worth_ respecting... How many people, sorcerers no less, would willingly offer themselves up for death to save others? Not many, not with things the way they were. It just seemed ironic that more often than not, the interesting commoners were also on the wrong side of the law. Maybe there was some unspoken rule of fate, which meant the boring nobles created rules to get rid of the interesting commoners because they didn't want to be show up by them.

He snorted to himself, shaking his head. Was he actually starting to prefer commoners to the boring and predictable nobles he usually socialised with? No, he wasn't, and he wasn't going to. They day he did that would be the day he lost his pride as a noble, and his pride was something he valued more than anything else he had except his family. He would pity Liam, offer him whatever support his father obviously wanted him to. So long as Liam didn't get in the way of what was important to him, he didn't really care if his father wanted to play nice and give him a home. He was just going to end up as a servant anyway.

Nodding to himself at that though, Tarven tucked a stray strand of his dark hair behind an ear and kept walking. He had other things to think about than a kid with a sob story, like the fact his tutor had told him to read the third chapter of a book ready for tomorrow... and he hadn't even touched it yet.

~(-)~

"It succeeded in getting the staff to treat him with more interest and respect, but it failed in helping him to settle. Liam is just _too_ withdrawn, and after that one slip where I mentioned his brother to make sure our son would be polite, Liam clamped down and barely spoke a word for the rest of the evening."

Hargren sighed, pacing as he concluded his telling of the previous two evenings. He was clearly frustrated, but he was not the only one. Jancine regarded him with a sigh and a shake of her head.

"Then let _me _deal with him for a while."

Hargren stopped pacing to stare at her, frowning ever so slightly.

"But you're too ill to..."

"Enough!" Jancine regarded him sternly, her tone scolding. "I may be ill, but that does not mean I can't help him. Assign him to assist my maid for the time being, and let him dine with _me _tonight since it seems you're too heavy handed to understand the _subtleties _gaining a the trust of a frightened and grieving child."

Hargren tried to argue again, but once again she overruled him.

"But Jancine, you..."

"I've made up my mind, and if you don't assign him to me I will bypass you and do it myself." She frowned, giving him a long look. " But it will look better on you in the long run if _you _do it."

The rather startled lord backed up a step, before clearing his throat and nodding.

"I'll arrange it."

As he turned to leave, she called out after him.

"And I want him to start this afternoon."

Hargren paused as she said it, before continuing on his way with a long-suffering sigh. As much as he loved his wife, there were times when she could be unbelievably single-minded and stubborn.

Jancine watched him go, knowing exactly what he was thinking. Yes, she was stubborn, but only when she needed to be. She'd sat here in her room for over a week, listening to dribs and drabs of information regarding Liam yet being unable to do anything herself. It had been incredibly _frustrating_.

It was nearing mid-morning when her husband's manservant arrived, gently pushing a certain young boy in through the door of the chambers before leaving. Jancine heard her maid usher Liam inside, before she called out from where she sat in her bed.

"Clara, bring him in here please. After that, if you could go begin arranging my midday meal. Bring up enough for the there of us, we can dine together since it's Liam's first day."

Clara led Liam into the sleeping chamber as instructed, bobbing a curtsey which caused a stray tress of her blond hair to fall free of the bun she'd tied it into. She tucked that strand behind her ear with a tiny sigh, indicating it was a common occurrence, before nodding to her mistress and accepting the implication that she wanted to be alone to talk to Liam.

"I will back at noon, My Lady."

She left, Liam turning to watch her go uncertainly. He then turned back to Jancine, who he recognised and yet did not know what to make of... When had she become so _frail?_

Jancine waved him over with a hand, pointing to a jug of water and a cup on her beside table.

"Get me a drink of water, dear, and come sit down." He did as he was told, sensibly filling the cup only halfway and watching as she drained it. He then put the cup back on the table, before seating himself on the edge of her bed when she indicated he should. She then regarded him thoughtfully for a moment, as though wondering something, and then she spoke with a sigh. "From now on, until you've learnt to read and write, you will be assisting my maid, Clara, during the times you aren't in lessons. I will arrange for Forwin, our physician, to teach you during the mornings to read and write. In the afternoons, when he is busy, I will be teaching you things like history. Naturally I will also teach you the etiquette expected of servants, but there's more to life than bowing and manners. You need a rounded education in a place like this. That way no one can say you're ignorant. Did you understand all that?"

Liam nodded, not meeting her eyes as he murmured quietly.

"Yes, My Lady."

She heard the hint of unhappiness in his tone, not at the though of lessons but just unhappiness in general. For all her husband's explanations, she hadn't realised Liam was quite _this_ miserable. She sighed as she looked at him, regret clouding her kind brown eyes. There was so much she wished she could have done before now.

"I am so sorry, Liam... If only Hargren and I could have done more for you..."

Liam looked up, his depression giving way to surprise. She was _apologising_ to him?

"Why are you saying sorry? ...M-my Lady."

He tagged the title onto the end, when he realised he'd been blunt, but she didn't mind. She just continued to look at him with sad eyes, sighing once again before answering him.

"When you mother, brother, and sister were killed, my husband and I should have offered greater support to you and your father during our visit to Camelot, or even delayed leaving until Alan had returned. Alina was a very dear friend of mine, and I have always regretted that we were not there to help your father during the days afterwards. We only learnt of his death, and your disappearance, after we had returned. It was then we did the only thing left that we _could_do, and that was pay for the seekers your bother hired to search for you."

Liam frowned, confused.

"You mean you and Lord Hargren helped him look for me?"

She nodded.

"We did, and even when Alan finally gave up, we were tempted to continue regardless... Are you sure you don't want us to send someone to look for him? To let him know you are alive and in our care?"

Liam remained silent for several seconds, fighting the sudden urge to sob, before shaking his head sharply.

"No... The people who get close to me always get hurt. Mom, and Elias died protecting Tadoras. Helen died so I could hide where the bandits couldn't reach me. I made Alan suffer by not going back to him... and now Kalem... and everyone else who looked after me after I ran away..."

He started to break down, tears welling up in his eyes while he started to shake with sobs. She reached out and took hold of him, pulling him close into a hug and letting him cry into her shoulder while murmuring.

"Don't blame yourself for all that has happened. You mother, Elias, and Helen died protecting you because they loved you. Alan suffered while you were missing because he cares for you, his dear little brother. And Kalem did what he did because _he_loved you as a brother too. There is no shame in that, in fact it shows what a wonderful young boy you are... To be cared about by so many different people."

The words got through to him although he didn't stop crying, as his walls of anger that had started to form... shattered. What neither he or Jancine knew, though, was that Tarven had eavesdropped on the conversation. He had been about to visit his mother, and instead found her comforting _Liam_.

The young lord ducked his head back out of sight, retreating from the room as quietly as he'd entered, leaving the small bundle of flowers he'd brought on the table by the door. Once outside he pressed his lips together in a thin unhappy line, the image of his mother holding Liam engraved on his mind. She was _his _mother, not Liam's, and yet she was treating the commoner almost as if she _was_.

Tarven started to scowl, gritting his teeth and storming away. In the space of just a few days, Liam had wormed his way right to the heart of the manor... And right now he was receiving the warmth and love that _he_should have been getting for bringing the flowers to her.

All thoughts of being considerate to Liam, vanished, replaced by jealousy and resentment, and embittered as he was, Tarven did not stop to think or even care that his mother was kind to _everyone_. All that mattered to him was that Liam had come between him and that which he valued the most... his mother.

~(-)~

**Alaia Skyhawk: Did I almost have you thinking that maybe Tarven wasn't going to such a bad guy to know? Well, sorry but he's still going to be a git for most of this fic... He's just going to be a git with reasons, hehehe. Sharing his father's attention with Liam? Sure, he's used to being sidelined a bit with him because his father is Lord of Ulwin. Sharing his _mother's_ attention... HELL NO!**


	34. Lessons 'Part 1'

**Alaia Skyhawk: A bit of a wait, but nothing horrendous lol. I ended up volunteering to build a brand new website, from scratch, for a charity I'm part of. So I used some of my writing time doing that. But anyways, I'm back now, so onwards with the story!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Merlin TV series etc, but I do own the star of this fic... LIAM!**

**Music: I Left him on the Mountainside (Celtic Folk)**

~(-)~

Chapter 34: Lessons ~Part 1~

The hand on his shoulder was reassuring, comforting. A warm presence when otherwise he still felt very much alone. He may have finally accepted being here, but that wouldn't help him make friends... Not when all his experiences now meant he was reluctant to let anyone get truly close. He'd been hurt too many times losing such people, to face risking it happening again...

Liam walked silently beside Clara, Jancine's maid confidently leading him through the manor, chattering away as she did so. It had been two days since he'd been assigned to help her tend to the lady, but the start of his lessons had been delayed until Jancine was sure he was ready.

And apparently, being willing to answer everyday questions with phrases longer than five words, meant that he was.

He frowned a little when their route took them into an odd-looking single-storey addition to the main manor structure. It looked like a haphazard combination of a cottage, a stable, and some attempt to make it look like part of the castle it was tacked onto. Sufficient to say it failed miserably in that respect, but at least it made it distinct. There was no way he wasn't going to remember where _this_ place was.

"Don't ask me why he insisted on having this place. It was a sty, literally, but he wanted somewhere wit lots of space, on the ground floor, and close to a well. This was one of the only places that fit. But then, Forwin has always been a bit... odd." Clara expression was slightly bemused, although she was also smiling with a degree of mirth when she glanced down at him. "Don't mind his manner, he's a caring soul, it's just he's... Well you could say he's a bit like a hedgehog. He's a nice fellow, but if you get too close watch out for his spines. Just do as he instructs you, and you'll get along with him fine."

They reached the main door into the building, entering through one side of the wide opening to find themselves in a narrow passage that to their right led to a side-door into the main part of the manor. Directly ahead was another wide wooden door, set into a wall clearly much newer than the rest of the structure. It looked like it had been walled off level with the front of what had been the pens within the sty, and that suspicion was confirmed by the layout of the long room behind it.

Clara led him into the chamber, all but a few traces of its previous use long since scrubbed away or buried beneath the since-added stone floor. The double row of wooden pillars bore marks from where partitions for stalls had been fastened to them, but all had long been removed to turn the place into quite a respectable infirmary. To their left were two rows of beds, all but two devoid of blankets for now, and to their right was a disarray of cluttered tables, packed cupboards and shelves, and one rather cranky-looking middle-aged man.

He frowned at them above a ragged but short, grey-streaked black beard, which matched his equally ragged greying hair. From all accounts it looked like he'd cut it himself with a pair of shears, and it made him resemble some sort of irate ageing goat. His mind however clearly wasn't taking the same downward spiral as the colour of his hair, as he glared at them irritatedly with a pair of sharp brown eyes.

"Well, what are you waiting for? Tell me why you're here, or get out and let me get on with my work."

Liam flinched at his tone and ducked behind Clara a little, the maid glancing down at him before addressing the physician.

"Lady Jancine has asked me to inform you that, since it would be inappropriate for young Lord Tarven's tutor to do so, she would like you to ensure that Liam be able to read and write to a good standard. You were his early tutor, and you did an exemplary job with him, and so she hopes you will do likewise again with Liam."

Silence filled the chamber, the brown eyes of the physician staring into the blue ones of the maid. Clara stared back, unfazed, until Forwin tore his gaze away from her and looked at Liam instead.

"Well don't just stand there, boy! Go sit at that table over there while I find the books I used for Tarven." Liam scrambled to do as he was told, going to the indicated table while Forwin started to grumble quietly. "I have enough work as it is, right now, and our dear Lady wants me to teach a former thief to read."

Hearing the mutter, even if Liam didn't, Clara began to frown and murmured back in disapproval.

"He's had a hard time, Forwin. He's lost everyone he's ever cared about in one way or another, and the most recent loss has really hit him hard. Lady Jancine was able to get through to him and get him to accept being here, and she's trusting you not to drive him cowering into a corner."

The physician frowned back, coming closer to her before speaking again.

"And what loss would that be?"

She stared at him in disbelief, her expression showing a hint of outrage at his dismissive manner.

"Do you mean to tell me that you've listened to all the out-of-line rumours about him, but you didn't even bother to learn the truth? You're Lord Hargren's appointed physician! I would have expected you to have asked about it before now since you've the right to."

"And what if I didn't want to ask? What if I wasn't interested?"

She stiffened in fury, Liam watching in confusion from where he sat. Hadn't she said Forwin was a nice person... But then again she _had_ said he was like a hedgehog. If you got close, you got spiked.

"You are the utter _limit_, Forwin. If not for your skill in keeping Lady Jancine's condition stable, I would wonder why Lord Hargren keeps you here. You are abrasive beyond belief!"

The physician didn't react, instead just regarding her flatly.

"I am what I am, and I have my reasons: reasons that Lord Hargren and Lady Jancine know. What they are, is none of your business... Now, seeing as you think I should know something about that boy's most recent 'loss', why don't you tell me then get out and let me get on with starting to teach him. I have enough work to do as it is without you wasting even more of my time with your yattering."

She glared at him for several seconds, before taking a deep breath and doing as asked. She kept her voice low, so that Liam wouldn't hear and be reminded of it.

"His friend, Kalem, was the sorcerer who got sent to Camelot for execution last week. That young man was like a brother to him, and was the only person he had left. Kalem revealed himself protecting him, and to ensure Liam would be taken care of he willingly surrendered to the law. Lord Hargren promised him he would give Liam a home and a job, and he's _keeping _that promise." She turned for the door, striding over to it and pausing before passing through. "Liam is to have a history lesson with Lady Jancine this afternoon. Send him up after the midday meal."

The door closed with a degree of force just shy of a slam, but the physician didn't really notice. Instead he had an odd expression on his face, one that he smoothed away before turning to regard the uncertain boy nearby. He then walked over to one of his sets of shelves, pulling down a handful of volumes before also grabbing a slate and stylus. These he all thumped down onto the table in front of Liam, before with a sudden change of manner he gently, if still gruffly, thrust the slate and writing tool into the child's hands.

"Let's start with finding out what you already know. Do you know the alphabet?"

Liam mutely stared at him, slightly confused by the man's odd behaviour, and nodded slowly. He hadn't been able to hear most of the conversation with Clara, but she'd seemed angry when she left. Yet now Forwin was being almost _nice_.

"Yes... Mom and dad taught me a bit, and then my friend Kalem taught me some too..."

The slightly odd expression returned to Forwin's face for an instant at the mention of that name, before he sighed and sat down on the bench beside Liam.

"Then write it on the slate, and after that we'll see how much you can read of one of those storybooks. I'll know then if we need to work on your handwriting, and how much I'll need to teach you."

Liam did as he was asked, revealing that while he could write the alphabet his handwriting needed some serious work to correct it from its present scrawl. Forwin then set the smallest and easiest of the storybooks in front of the boy, opening it to a short poem about a great knight who lived three centuries ago. He then patiently guided the boy through it, nodding in approval when Liam knew words on his own, and helping him read the ones he didn't.

Even hedgehogs have their soft sides, and Liam was seeing his.

~(-)~

It was a slightly baffled twelve-year-old who arrived at Lady Jancine's chambers shortly after midday, having spent the morning being patiently coached through several of the stories and poems in the book he now carried. Forwin had then left him to practice the first of them, disappearing from the room before returning a short while later with a small pot of stew and a chunk of bread to share. Once the two of them had eaten, he had then instructed Liam to keep practicing the stories they'd looked at, before sending him firmly on his way to his scheduled history lesson with the Lady of Ulwin.

Clara had been right to describe Forwin as being a bit 'odd', because right now Liam honestly didn't have a clue what to make of him.

The boy knocked on the door lightly and walked in, having been told to do so seeing as if Clara weren't there, there was no way Jancine could get up to answer it. Instead he paused just inside the threshold and called out tentatively.

"Lady Jancine?"

"Come in here, Liam. You don't need any writing things for today, so set whatever Forwin gave you on the table out there."

He did as instructed, leaving his book on the table and walking into the bedchamber side of the conjoined rooms. Jancine wasn't in bed as he'd expected, but rather sat in a high-backed cushioned chair near the window. She pointed to a less luxuriant but still cushioned chair opposite her, waiting for him to sit down before with a smile she handed him an apple from the bowl of fruit on the table beside her.

He accepted it, smiling the tiniest bit and murmuring quietly.

"Thank you."

Her smile widened, before she sighed and leaned back into the padding of her chair.

"How was your first lesson with Forwin? From her mood when she got back, I'm guessing he wound Clara up a bit."

Liam, who was chewing a bite of his apple, quickly swallowed it and answered.

"He said something that made her angry, and she said something back before storming out. They kept their voices quiet, so I couldn't hear most of it."

Jancine frowned slightly.

"And then what?"

Liam hesitated, looking down at the apple in his lap with a puzzled expression.

"He was really grumpy with her, but then he was really nice when he started to teach me. His face went weird when I told him Kalem had taught me a bit about reading and writing."

Jancine's expression changed to a knowing smile, but it was also sad.

"Ah, but that will be because the two of you have something in common."

Liam glanced up, blinking.,

"Huh?"

"You have both lost someone dear, because of Camelot's law banning magic."

The boy was startled, still blinking in surprise.

"He lost someone too? Who?"

Jancine shook her head.

"That's not for me to tell you, and I warn you not to ask him about it. If he decides to tell you, it will be in his own time. I don't think I need tell you that thinking about them hurts him, just as thinking about Kalem hurts you."

Liam bit his lip at the reminder, nodding in understanding.

"I won't ask him."

She sighed, drawing his attention back from his lap.

"Well, seeing as you've come face-to-face with the results of it, today I'm going to tell you about the events of the Purge. I'm sure Kalem told you what he knew, that King Uther suddenly banned magic, but I want you to know everything that happened. A lot of people in the magical community hold deep grudges against him, and in turn against Camelot. You're going to encounter the results, that is almost certain, so it's best I tell you all that I can... Starting with why he banned magic."

Liam frowned.

"He banned it because he thought it was bad, right?"

Jancine nodded slowly, before correcting him slightly.

"That is a basic way of saying it, yes. He banned it because he believed it should be destroyed, but that does not tell you _why_ he thinks that." She sighed. "Few people know this, and even Hargren and I don't know the exact details. All Uther was willing to tell the two of us was that magic had brought about a terrible thing, a tragedy that caused the death of his wife, Queen Ygraine. That magic took her away from him, hardened his heart to all forms of it... even the good. He turned on magic and proceeded to strip its followers from the lands, and that was what is now called the Great Purge."

Liam stared at her.

"He banned magic because magic killed his wife?"

"Yes... and that is why he should not be hated for his stance against magic, but rather he should be pitied. I know that you don't agree with those laws. You've seen the good side of magic that Uther now refuses to. You needn't fear that Hargren and I will reveal your beliefs to others, although I don't think I need tell you that you too must keep them to yourself... As he and I have done for the past fourteen years."

Liam blinked once again.

"You don't agree with the laws? But then _why _did you send Kalem to _die!_"

Jancine grimaced, her voice tinged with regret. While she may know that Kalem was in fact alive, Liam didn't know and couldn't be told that.

"If we were to have let him escape, when he had surrendered to us, what would Uther think?" Liam hesitated, and she continued. "It would draw suspicion that we are supporters of magic, and he could oust us from Ulwin. If we tried to resist, it would mean war. If we turned to Cenrid, a supporter of magic, and he took over these lands, it would mean oppression for the people here. All of those options are out of the question, because playing along when we must, and secretly helping the magical community when we _can_, is far better than us not being here to help at all. Kalem understood that, which is why he did what he did. He knew we did not agree with the laws, and acted as was required to ensure we could continue to assist those we are able to. Right until the end, he did what was best for the greatest number of people. His sacrifice will let us save many others in the future that otherwise would have no one to help them."

Liam thought over her words, understanding them for all his young age. He might only have been twelve, but he had learnt a lot about this way of thinking from Kalem. Making decisions for the greater good, and being willing to risk even your life for the sake of others. That was something he had always placed a great deal of importance in.

He sighed, whatever remaining vestiges of anger against Hargren fading away. He'd done what he'd had to, and so had Kalem, and they'd done it so the Lord and Jancine would be able to remain here and keep helping people in secret.

Jancine watched him carefully, knowing the moment when those thoughts clicked together. Liam would be another staunch supporter of their views, even if like them he would never be able to openly voice it.

"That's enough of that for now. We need to get started on exactly what happened during the Purge. To do that, we need to first cover the event of Uther calling all the Dragonlords to Camelot, because that is one of the most damning of his actions against magic."

Liam frowned, curious.

"Why?"

Jancine regarded him solemnly.

"Because he called them to Camelot in the guise of forming a treaty with them and the Dragons. Once they were in the city, they called the Dragons to gather in the fields around it as well. And then, after the great feast he held once they had all arrived, he had his men slay all but one of the dragon's as they slept. The roars of that last dragon, tied up in chains, woke the Dragonlords in the castle... or at least those of them that had not already been killed in their slumber. None of them were able to help him, and only one managed to escape the city and survive. Where that Dragonlord is now, no one knows, and the Great Dragon, the last brother and kin to that Dragonlord, is kept chained beneath Camelot as an example."

"And you want me to _pity_ him?"

Liam stared at her in disbelief, Jancine speaking firmly in reply.

"Yes, because answering hate with hate will not solve anything. To force magic back upon the land would be as bad as when he drove magic out of it. Such an act would only spawn new hatred, and continue the tragic cycle that has already caused so many innocent lives to be lost. Magic will return, in time. We must simply wait, patiently, like the Druids are."

"...We have to wait for Emrys and the Once and Future King to bring magic back. Only if they do it will there be peace."

It was her turn to blink in surprise, before realising that Kalem must have taught Liam about that at some point. She smiled at him, nodding.

"Yes, we must let destiny take its course. Magic is already fated to return, and while we wait we will continue to help those we can." She straightened up a little, her manner becoming more businesslike again. "Now, to continue your lesson about the events of the Purge, we will move next to the declaration of the new law banning magic and the spate of arrests that followed."

The lesson continued well into the afternoon, Liam listening intently to Jancine's words. He'd been shielded from the knowledge of the horrific events of the Purge, but it was time he learned the truth. Only with that knowledge would he be able to make informed decisions in the future, and decide to assist her and Hargren in helping the victims. This was the path now before him, the future he'd been offered and had chosen to accept.

~(-)~

**Alaia Skyhawk: Hehe, I like Forwin already, and I've only just started writing him :D**


	35. Lessons 'Part 2'

**Alaia Skyhawk: Time for Tarven to be a git again...**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Merlin TV series etc, but I do own the star of this fic... LIAM!**

**Music: Shule Agra (Celtic Folk)**

~(-)~

Chapter 35: Lessons ~Part 2~

It was strange how quickly he was settling into the routine here. Strange to think that just over two months ago he'd been living in a filthy abandoned house with a gang gone bad. Now he was getting proper lessons on how to read and write by Ulwin's physician, and being tutored in history and other things by none other than the Lady of Ulwin herself.

Liam frowned to himself a little, a small bag containing his slate, stylus, and storybook clutched to his chest. Clara had given it to him, to make them easier to carry around. It was just as well, really, considering the distance between the nobles' wing where Lady Jancine's chambers were, and the converted former sty that was Forwin's domain. It had occured to him last night that maybe that was why the physician had picked it, since it was easy to get to any yet kept him separate from most of the people in the manor. There he had peace and quiet to do his work, and his sharp tongue meant few people bothered to disturb him unless it was for medical matters.

He arrived at the infirmary, entering from the side door to the main building. Clara had made sure he knew that way as well as the route outside, so he could avoid the weather if it were raining or worse. That wasn't the case today though, because outside it was sunny for all that it was cold. No, he'd come this way because it meant he encountered fewer people to _stare_ at him.

Word had spread fast, that he was, for now, Clara's assistant, and not only that but he was being tutored by Forwin. No one had been told that Lady Jancine was teaching him too, which was just as well... If the staff had known, then the staring would be even _worse._

Entering the infirmary was a relief, knowing that in here the only thing he would have to deal with was the physician's grumpiness. Sure enough, Forwin glared at him from the end of the infirmary which was his 'chamber'. Liam hadn't realised it the first day, but the man didn't just work in here but _lived_ in here... His sleeping area was concealed behind the curtain at the far end.

"Get over to the table and write out the poem I told you to practice. Don't disturb me until you're done."

"Yes, sir."

Liam headed to the table which had unofficially become his 'desk', seating himself there and proceeding to write on his slate. After four weeks of lessons, his script was a _lot_ neater now. Certainly far more readable than his prior scrawl, but there was still room for improvement. His pace of learning might have been a bit better, if not for the fact that when down here he kept getting distracted.

Green eyes lifted their gaze from the slate, instead settling to watch Forwin work. The physician was mixing remedies as usual, silently measuring powders and oils from jars, or grinding up herbs taken from the drying rack hanging from one of the rafters. Liam would have loved to have a book about medicine to learn his reading from, instead of a dumb storybook filled with versions of legends that were worded for five-year-olds. The thing was, he just didn't have the nerve to _ask_... Forwin was too scary when he got cranky'_er_ than he was normally.

Brown eyes flicked up to stare at him, a hand reaching unerringly for a discarded candle-stub sitting on the table near it. Seconds later that stub skimmed past Liam's head, thudding into the wall behind him in counterpoint to the accompanying reprimand.

"Concentrate on your work_, boy_, or the next throw will knock some sense into you."

"Yes, sir!"

Liam flinched, ducking his head and resuming scribbling on his slate. Living with the gang had taught him to appreciate medicine, especially when losing the castle had resulted in them running so low on remedies. In those months before the gang's end, and within Cenrid's lands particularly, he'd seen the results that came from not being able to afford to pay for treatment.

As the youngest he'd always been the one at the back-lines, treating wounds when they happened, and when things had begun to run out he'd seen first hand the way wounds could fester. One of the gang members had had to have a finger cut off when it began to rot after a bad cut, since it was going to be that, or his whole hand or worse. The moment Gavin had heated a knife in their cook-fire, and used it to take off the finger, had been the instant that he'd wished he wasn't so helpless. If he and the gang had only known more about medicine, then maybe losing that finger wouldn't have had to happen.

He sighed, pushing those thoughts aside. Right now he was Clara's assistant, and Jancine and Forwin's student. He was supposed to learn reading and writing, history and protocol. Maybe by the time he'd done those he'd have the guts to ask Forwin, and Lord Hargren, if he could be the physician's apprentice.

"...You're still not concentrating, boy..."

Liam flinched again, glancing briefly at a hand raised in prelude to another random object being thrown at his head. It would be a while before that happened, though... A _long_ while.

~(-)~

Green eyes looked cautiously around the corner, assuring their owner that no one was in the next passage. Liam eased around it, continuing along the hall before pausing and doing the same at the next junction. While in the past month he had learnt the areas mostly for servants were safe, the areas where the nobles lived were not. For him, at least, they had become a daily trial, forcing him to keep constant watch on his way to Lady Jancine's chambers for his lessons. Most days he was lucky, but every so often that luck would run out.

He looked around the next corner, freezing in his when he saw Tarven lying in wait for him. He dashed across the hallway to the passage beyond, hoping that he could get close enough to Jancine's chambers that Tarven wouldn't risk her hearing the fuss. Liam barely made it five yards before his feet were kicked from under him, a booted foot placed on his back to stop him getting up.

"Still hanging around, _thief!_"

Liam grumbled into the stone floor, wincing when Tarven increased the pressure on his back.

"I'm not a thief. I'm assistant to Clara, Lady Jancine's maid..." Silence, and he turned his head to look up at his tormentor. "Why do you hate me?"

Tarven glowered down at him.

"Because once a thief, always a thief... You don't _belong _here."

"Tell your father that, then... He's the one who promised me I could sta..."

The retort was cut off when the foot on his back moved and kicked him in the ribs, knocking the wind out of him. Tarven never hit him on the face or arms, or anywhere it might show. It was just as well Liam had his own room now, because anyone who saw him dressing would see a mottling of bruises from collar to waist.

The young lord didn't do anything else, just glaring one last time before storming away. The moment he was gone, Liam's bravado in answering back crumbled. He pushed himself to his knees and sat there, shaking. He wanted to tell someone what was happening, but it would be his word against a noble. If he did, it would only make things worse, since Hargren wouldn't send him away, and Tarven would only become more angry. The best he could do was keep his head down and sit it out.

Liam got to his feet, picking up his bag and continuing on his way. Meanwhile, Tarven watched him pass from an alcove, thinking. He knew Liam was scared of him, and he wanted him gone from Ulwin, but there was something he'd said that was got to him. Had his father really promised Liam that he could stay?

Tarven slipped out of the alcove, heading through the manor in silence before stopping outside the door of his father's study. He's wanted to speak with him anyway, so this was as good a chance as any to ask any other questions as well.

He knocked on the door, waiting until his father called out for him to enter, and then did so. Hargren looked a little surprised to see his son, but that expression changed to a smile.

"Tarven, what is it? Weren't you supposed to go riding?"

The boy approached the desk, mindful to keep it between him and his father. He'd never forgotten that time that Hargren had slapped him after the banquet five years ago. He knew now to keep certain opinions to himself, but he never chanced another physical reprimand by standing close when his tongue might slip.

"I've already been riding, Father. I just thought I'd ask if I could dine with you tonight."

Hargren continued to smile.

"Of course you can. It was just going to be Liam and I, since I wanted to check on his progress in his lessons, but as my son you are more than welcome."

Tarven's expression became the tiniest of frowns... He'd forgotten that the third night of each week was now _Liam's_ night to dine with the lord. Smoothing it away, he replied.

"...Thank you."

The hesitation was not lost on Hargren, who folded his hands onto the desk before him.

"You don't like him, do you."

The young lord flinched, going stiff with surprise.

"W-what do you mean, father?"

Hargren leaned back into his chair with a sigh.

"You're jealous of him, I can see that plain as day. There is no point in trying to deny it. Liam _will_ be staying, because I respect his brother greatly, and I also respect his friend, Kalem. Both are examples of good men, and I have no doubt Liam will be the same given the chance. In light of that respect, he will _always _have a place here as long as I am Lord of Ulwin. I promised him that, and you would do well to accept that I have made that promise."

Tarven lowered his head, as shaken as if he _had_ been slapped.

"But..."

"But nothing..." Hargren got up from his chair, walking around his desk to place his hands on his son's shoulders. "You will always be mine and your mother's son, and Liam being here will not take that away from you. If you are jealous of the attention she has been giving him, then I would have you think about what kind of person your mother is. She would reach out to comfort _anyone_ who needs it, not just Liam. That's just the sort of person your mother is, the same as I am always a man who keeps his promises. Do you understand?"

"Yes, father..."

"Good, because you _will_ be dining with Liam and I tonight, and you _will_ talk to him properly. Call this a lesson in diplomacy, for when you are Lord of Ulwin you will almost certainly have to deal with and seem to like people you would rather not talk to at all." He nudged Tarven towards the door, his expression solemn. "Go to your chambers and think on what I have said, and then make sure you are at the dining hall promptly and on time. You still have a lot to learn, my son."

Tarven did as he was bidden, while inside him his resentment of Liam mixed with his conflicting feelings over this reprimand. His father was the wisest man he knew, and he knew if he wanted to be the same he would have to learn what it was he taught him. But at the same time he just wanted to know _why_ his father was so set in his opinions of what was proper honour when dealing with commoners. Sometimes he did things which made no sense, and yet every time he always got something valuable out of it. Many nobles coming here for the first time would whisper behind his back that they thought he was being a fool, only to change their tune a week or two later when another plum of a trading offer landed in Hargren's lap... He was an impossible man to judge, even when you were one of the closest people to him.

The young lord returned to his rooms and sat by his hearth, ignoring his manservant when he set out clothing for this evening. Instead he brooded over his father's words, and came to the unavoidable conclusion... He would have to stop being so hard on Liam, or risk the wrath of his father, but it didn't mean he would have to be _nice_ to Liam either except in public.

He sighed, frustrated. This evening was going to be a long one... What the hell was he supposed to talk about with a former _thief?_

~(-)~

**Alaia Skyhawk: lol, I have to wonder if I'm being harder on Tarven than Liam at this point. Liam has things set out pretty straight, but Tarven is being told to do things he'd really rather not. Ah well, I know most, if not all, the sympathy will go to Liam though... XD**


	36. Lessons 'Part 3'

**Alaia Skyhawk: 100,000 words! This fic has passed the magic number lol... Man, it makes me realise just how much time I spend writing, but then everything on TV is repeats anyway XD**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Merlin TV series etc, but I do own the star of this fic... LIAM!**

**Music: Down By The Glenside (Celtic Folk)**

~(-)~

Chapter 36: Lessons ~Part 3~

Knives and forks clattered against metal plates that had been scoured until they shined, water sloshing into the cups destined for the two boys at the table with the Lord of Ulwin. Hargren watched both of them carefully, noting Liam's confusion and a hint of almost hidden reluctance on Tarven's part. His son was doing as he'd been told, and talking to Liam about the harvest. To give him credit, Liam was able to comment in return, even naming prominent workers from the manor's farms, to which Tarven had then spoken in compliment to those people.

To put things bluntly, both boys were struggling with the conversation, masking awkward silences by picking at their food or examining the wood-grain of the long table. But for all the obvious tension, both were keeping things polite and civil, and at least that was something.

"I think that's enough for this evening. Both of you should be off to your rooms." Liam and Tarven turned their heads to look at him, as he smiled at both. "It has, as always, been a pleasure having you dining with me. Liam, you will come as usual next week. Tarven, you are to dine with me the day before that."

"Yes, sir."

"Yes, Father."

Hargren indicated the door out of the dining hall.

"Off you go, then. Both of you have lessons in the morning, and you need to make sure you get enough sleep. Neither of your tutors will appreciate it if you fall asleep while they're trying to teach you."

Both of them got up, bowing to the lord before turning and walking along their sides of the table. The reached the door at the same time, Liam opening it for Tarven as protocol dictated, and following him out. And then, once the door was shut, the young lord directed a slight glare at the commoner.

"Don't think this means we're going to be friends. Father has ordered me to be nice to you in public, but that's the only time you should expect it. _Don't_ forget that!"

He stormed away, an uncertain and scared Liam hurrying off in the opposite direction. He fled to his room in the servants' wing, closing the door behind him before going and huddling on his bed. He'd never realised before he lost him, just how much of his confidence had depended on Kalem. Now that the sorcerer was gone, the world was a much scarier and uncertain place. Yes there were people who genuinely wished to look after him, but there were others who didn't want him around... And now he didn't have Kalem, his magic and his supportive words, to protect and reassure him.

Kicking off his shoes, Liam pulled his covers over himself in the gloom of his tiny chamber, shutting out the world and wishing in his subsequent dreams that Kalem was here with him.

~(-)~

The two nobles sat opposite each other, placed as they were at the table in the lady of the couple's chambers. Jancine found sitting in the narrow chairs at the table difficult, but once a week she did it to have breakfast with her husband. Hargren had tried to talk her out of it in the past, but she had stubbornly refused to be deterred. No matter the discomfort or pain from her limbs, she would sit at this table and she _would_ dine with him.

Talk remained on idle things, topics ranging from the latest minor scandal to the recent news from Camelot. Only once Clara had gone to take the plates to the kitchens did the talk move to other things. Where once Jancine had come to his study for these talks, now he had to come to her.

Looking down at her hands, folded elegantly on the table in front of her, Jancine tilted her head and glanced up at her husband. These were times he always liked her to speak her mind.

"So what has Forwin said of Liam's progress? He's doing well in his history and decorum lessons, but nothing has been said to me as to what our physician thinks."

Hargren seemed to mull on his answer for a moment, tapping the fingers of one hand on the table's surface. He wasn't completely certain.

"Forwin says Liam is a fast learner, and already knew quite a bit about reading and writing. He's just about ready to continue the rest of his study on his own."

"But you don't want to rush him." Jancine sighed. "And what of his history lessons? Do you want those to stop as well, when Forwin declares his writing up to standard?"

Her husband shook his head firmly.

"No. Liam is too good of an opportunity, as an assistant I will be able to trust implicitly. I want him to know the _true_ history of Camelot and Magic, not just the edited version that Uther has permitted. As soon as Forwin thinks he's ready, I want to start training him _myself_."

"Does he know you're planning that for him?"

Hargren stood up, starting to pace.

"No, because I wanted him to have the chance to settle in first without any pressure. Bern is all and well as a general manservant, but he's of Uther's opinion though-and-through. He distrusts magic completely, which is why I've never had him help me in my study. I can't trust him with that, which is why I need Liam. It gives him a permanent job, and me someone I can rely on to support me in matters regarding magic." He stopped, facing his wife where she sat. "Ever since the Purge, Uther has always provided each individual who has been my manservant. He sees it as a mark of favour, that he should send one of the best from among the staff in his household to me, but it has only been a shackle holding me down. He cannot dispute me taking Liam on, and if I happen to train him up to be _exactly_ the sort of manservant I want, well that only makes sense."

Jancine raised her eyebrows.

"So as soon as you think that Liam is old enough to cope on his own, you will be sending Bern back to Camelot?"

Hargren smiled a little in amusement.

"No, I will leave him to do most of the menial tasks, while Liam helps me with my organising and dealing with all my paperwork. I know the man, he will quickly tire of being overshadowed by a boy less than half his age. He'll request to go back to Camelot on his own, and I'll be free to put one of _my_ most trusted men into his position. I doubt Uther will have someone else he could send on such short notice. Not when Bern has only worked here for four months."

She chuckled, shaking her head a little.

"As devious as always... When did Forwin say to expect Liam to be ready to begin training?"

Hargren regarded her for a long moment, before sighing as his eyes became distant and thoughtful.

"He said he should be ready to start by the end of the week. If all goes well, then I expect in a few weeks I will be able to replace Bern as planned."

Jancine raised her cup of wine, as if in toast.

"Then I shall do my best to prepare Liam during the next few days... To Camelot, and to Ulwin. May we continue to do our best in softening the blows of Uther's hatred of magic. The day Bern leaves, will be the day that Camelot no longer has an eye at your shoulder."

Hargren picked his cup up as well, lightly tapping it against hers before lifting it close to his lips.

"For the future of Albion, I will strive to see it be so."

Both cups were emptied and set down, the promise made. As soon as Bern was gone, work in the shadows could then begin.

~(-)~

The normally narrowed brown eyes regarded the boy sat at the table, who for once was writing out his assigned text without being distracted. That was probably due in part to the fact his teacher wasn't mixing remedies this morning, instead writing out a list of things he needed ordering in from the apothecary in Camelot.

Forwin watched Liam write, the twelve-year-old now entrusted with a pen, ink pot, and a large sheet of paper. He did not know it, but if could write as well with the pen on the paper as he'd been doing with the stylus on the slate, then his lessons with him would be over. A few weeks ago, the physician had been hurrying the boy towards this day, but now he found himself hesitating.

Back when Liam had been handed over to him for tutoring, he'd only seen him as a nuisance, but that was before he'd noticed something... Liam had an _intense_ interest in medicine and the physician's craft...

Forwin suppressed a sigh, instead frowning to himself. If only he'd noticed it sooner, perhaps he could have taken the boy on as an apprentice since it seemed he was so keen. It was too late now, though. Hargren already had plans for the boy, _important_ plans, and they were something the middle-aged physician would be part of.

Hargren had waited a long while for a chance like this, a chance to innocently nudge one of Uther's bootlickers out of Ulwin. He knew he wouldn't be able to get rid of _all_ of them, but at least he could get rid of the ones closest to the heart of the manor and its lands. With them out of the way, things would be a lot easier, and previous things that they'd been forced to ignore could then be pursued.

This time he did sigh, although not loud enough to catch Liam's attention. It was all and well lamenting the loss of a potential apprentice, but he couldn't let Liam know he regretted it. The boy was going to be disappointed enough when he was handed over to the Lord of Ulwin, without him knowing he's been so close to doing something he quite likely wanted to do.

Yes, it was kinder if he didn't know.

"I'm finished, sir."

The quiet words jolted the physician from his thoughts, Forwin getting to his feet and striding over to the table where Liam sat. He accepted the sheet of paper he was offered, turning the cream-coloured sheet so it was the right way up and starting to examine the rows of writing that marched down its length straight and true. Every letter was legible, the words easy to read even if the handwriting itself was far from perfect. Liam didn't need to be up to the standard of a professional scribe, he just needed to be good enough that _anyone _would be able to read what he set down... and that meant he'd passed this test of his skills.

Forwin stared at the paper for several moments, his heart tinged with regret before he murmured gruffly.

"Well, boy, it looks like you're good enough now... About time too, it means you're finally going to be out of my hair and I can get back to doing my work properly."

Liam stiffened.

"I... I'm not going to be getting lessons from you anymore?"

The almost pleading note in his voice struck the physician, but long experience in hiding his emotions from patients and their families meant he had no trouble hiding them from the child.

"That's right. Lord Hargren wants to train you up to be his manservant and assistant. It's an _excellent_ opportunity, boy. Your brother would be proud of you to know you were being trusted with such an important position. That's why Lord Hargren had me improving your reading and writing. You're going to need them, working for him."

Liam lowered his head, staring crestfallen at his hands. His disappointment was clear to see.

"Oh..."

Forwin regarded him in silence, waiting nearly a minute before putting a hand on Liam's shoulder.

"Get yourself up, boy, the rest of your future starts today. I told Lord Hargren I would send you to him if you passed your writing test, so you'd best not keep him waiting."

Liam stood up, keeping his head lowered, but even so the physician caught a glimpse of tears hastily wiped away. Liam didn't look at him again, but rather turned and wordlessly ran to and out the door, and watching him go, Forwin couldn't blame him. If he were in that child's shoes, he'd want to cry too.

Shaking his head at his sentimentalism, the physician returned to writing out his order for supplies. He had people to help him gather what grew locally, but there were things he could get only from merchants. If he wanted them before winter hit, he had to get it sorted out now.

Pen scratched across paper, pausing to dip into the ink pot now and then, that being the only sound within the infirmary that was no longer serving as a classroom.

~(-)~

**Alaia Skyhawk: Liam has no idea Forwin wanted him as an apprentice. Poor kid, but Hargren does get first dibs. He really does need Liam more than Forwin does.**


	37. Led by a Child 'Part 1'

**Alaia Skyhawk: This is something new I added to my original time-line for the fic, so it's now going to be 90 chapters long instead of 87... Somehow I don't think anyone will be complaining XD**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Merlin TV series etc, but I do own the star of this fic... LIAM!**

**Music: The Farthest Land [Reprise] (Shadow of the Colossus OST)**

~(-)~

Chapter 37: Led by a Child ~Part 1~

The written statement was short and to the point, citing simply that the writer, while he had been honoured to work in Ulwin, wished to return to Camelot and thus asked for transfer. The one to whom the letter had been handed was happy to do so, expressing regrets that the writer did not wish to remain, and that he hoped he would do well. However, far from regretting the man's departure, the lord who now set the letter aside had a smile on his face.

Not surprising really... Bern had only lasted _two weeks_ while being overshadowed by the earnest efforts of Hargren's new apprentice assistant.

Hargren chuckled to himself, knowing that Bern would be on his way into town with his bags, to hire passage with any merchant who was heading off to Camelot today. He hadn't presumed to ask for an escort, servants who quit on their own were usually expected to make their _own_ way to their next job. Only if they were being sent specifically could a high-ranking servant expect to be accompanied by a guard, and even then only if the noble sending them wished to make an impression of importance for the noble who would be receiving them.

Bern had arrived in Ulwin with an escort of two experienced guardsmen from Camelot, a gesture of Uther's regard for Hargren, but he would be returning to Camelot in the back of a merchant's wagon...

Hargren sat down at his desk, resuming flipping through the morning's reports. Liam was tidying the lord's chambers right now, seeing as Bern was no longer around to do them, but he would only be doing them alone this once. Hargren had sent a guard to retrieve a certain member of the castle staff, the moment his former manservant had gained a suitable distance from the study. A firm yet soft knock on the door heralded that staff member's arrival, Hargren's voice holding a hint of his pleased frame of mine when he called out.

"Enter."

The young man who came in was dressed in the same bland clothing as the rest of the servants, but he carried himself with a distinctly jaunty air. His hands were thrust into the pockets of his jacket, his smile being enough of a smirk that if he'd directed it at any of the nobles who guested at the manor, he'd have gotten a thorough flogging for his impertinence.

The red-head's smile widened even further, his grey eyes dancing with amusement.

"I take it this means I'm your manservant now?"

Hargren regarded him with mild disapproval.

"Mind your tongue, Fyren. You may be this blunt with me in private, but if you spoke that way in front of anyone not part of my trusted circle, it would raise unwanted questions. It is better you address me as is proper, and not get into _bad _habits."

The young man, Fyren, bowed respectfully, his outright grin softening to a more acceptable polite smile.

"Yes, My Lord. I would assume that you summoning me, means that Bern has resigned and is as we speak starting on his way back to Camelot. Did you give him a letter of recommendation?"

The lord sat at the desk nodded.

"I did, stating that his work was exceptional, but that both he and I had realised that he wasn't quite suited to my needs. I return him to Camelot with good favour... If Uther is in a good mood, it's fairly likely that Bern will get his old job back."

Russet eyebrows were raised.

"And that would be?"

"He was Prince Arthur's manservant."

Fyren let out a snort, choking back a laugh.

"I wish him well, then... Anyone who knows how to get the information, among the staff of _both_ castles, knows that Arthur is somewhat big for his boots. Not that anyone blames him, he's a prince and damned good with a sword for his age, but he really should learn some humility."

Hargren smiled wryly.

"And were _you_ any better at that age? He's fourteen, nearly fifteen, and while commoners may consider that to be nearing adulthood, among nobles he's still just a stripling. He won't be expected to start doing anything serious with his time, apart from lessons, until he's eighteen and has his knighthood... Although given that Sir Leon was admitted to the Knights of Camelot when he was seventeen, I can foresee Prince Arthur wanting to better that. He has the skill for it, so unless his father decides to object I expect he'll ask to be tested for the Knights when he's _sixteen_."

The servant's expression became bland.

"And then he'll have an even bigger ego than he already has..."

"_Fyren..._" The servant had the grace to wince in acceptance of the reprimand, Hargren leaning back in his chair to stare at him. "Well, regardless of what Bern ends up doing, it's no longer my concern. My only thought is that, now that he is gone, the only servants within the manor who originate from the castle in Camelot are all involved in tending to the nobles who I permit to have residence here. They are all too tied up in impressing their masters, to be concerned about what _I_ am doing, and that is how I both want and need it to be."

Fyren raised his eyebrows again.

"What are you up to, My Lord?"

"Go bring Forwin to see me, and you'll find out..."

The servant hurried from the study without a word, closing the door quietly behind him. Fyren had never been a man to mince words. If he said anything, he preferred to say things straight. Beating around bush wasn't his style, which meant he would, in general, either speak or not speak at all. Considering that most of the people in the manor, he _couldn't_ speak his mind to without risking his lord's secrets, he tended just to mumble when in public. The result meant most believed him to be somewhat stupid, and that suited him and Hargren perfectly.

People tend to say things in front of those they think are stupid, that otherwise they would never say. It made Fyren the perfect man to keep tabs on the nobles and staff within the manor. It also helped that no one recognised him, but then who would believe that a young man of noble blood would work as a _servant?_

It was about fifteen minutes after he left that Fyren returned with the physician in tow, Forwin looking suitably irritated. The greying man's gruff expression didn't fade once the door closed, but then no one who knew him well expected it to. Anyone this close to Hargren and his secrets, had secrets and pasts of their own, and only the lord himself knew each and every one of them.

Forwin crossed his arms over his chest, frowning a little as he directed a fleeting glance at Fyren.

"I see you wasted no time in replacing Bern... I take it you wanted to ask me something, now that that _toady _of Uther's is gone."

Hargren nodded, indicating both men get a chair from the side of the room and seat themselves in front of his desk.

"Yes, and I've waited far longer than I'd hoped. Getting rid of Bern's predecessor, without drawing suspicion, was difficult, and then Uther sent him before I'd even the chance to create an excuse to appoint Fyren into the position. Now that I have Liam, and am training him to be my assistant, I 'do not wish to take on a servant in the role, who may well find offence in being overshadowed by a twelve-year-old'. Or so that is what I will tell the king, should he ask if I want him to send someone else."

Forwin snorted, looking amused as he glanced sidelong at the red-head sat beside him.

"So basically you'll tell him that you've taken Liam on for the political work due to his intelligence, and that you've taken Fyren on for the menial work due to his _lack_ of intelligence. People who are 'as dense as a rock' don't tend to be offended when someone younger gets better jobs than them."

"_Hey!_"

When the servant turned to glare at the physician, Hargren raised a hand to stop it turning into an argument.

"That's enough, Fyren. As tactless as he phrased it, that is _exactly_ how I want Uther and all others to view it. The less they know about you, the less they'll notice you. It would raise a scandal if your real identity came out into the open."

Forwin raised an eyebrow, his expression speculative.

"And what identity would that be, I wonder."

Fyren smirked at him.

"Hang around long enough and maybe I'll tell you... Sometime around the next _blue moon_."

Hargren's voice cut both of them off, he was starting to sound a bit exasperated.

"Gentlemen, please, let us attend to the reason I asked for you to be here." Both of them focused their attention on him, and taking that as the cue they were now paying attention, Hargren turned to Forwin. "I will put this bluntly... Now that it is safe to pursue this, I want to ask you. Normal medicines cannot cure my wife's condition, but could magic do it?"

Both men sat opposite him stared, Fyren being the first to murmur in reaction.

"That _was_ blunt. You're not wasting any time, are you?"

Hargren frowned a little.

"While Lady Jancine's illness is not life threatening, I will not stand by and watch her continue to suffer when there is no need for it. She is just as important to my position here as the rest of you are, and not only that she is my _wife_. I have had enough of sitting idly by, and if it is possible I want to see her being treated with a cure before winter sets in. Now, Forwin, please tell me, could magic cure her?"

The physician sighed.

"To 'put it bluntly'... Yes, it could. Her illness is not serious, merely debilitating, and most of the Druid Clans have at least one healer with the skills to cure it. The problem will be _finding_ any of them. With Camelot's stance against magic, most are buried so deep in hiding that locating them will be near impossible even if any of them live within a reasonable distance."

"Ask Liam to help." Both Forwin and Hargren stared at Fyren, who just shrugged and continued. "The kid's friend was a sorcerer who was trained by a druid, and that means the gang they were in was friends with a druid _clan_. That kind of friendship doesn't vanish overnight. If Liam shows you where the gang used to go to get in touch with them, you have a good chance of finding them. And if he's with you, they'll be more inclined to listen than to just walk away."

Forwin, somewhat bemused, looked at Hargren.

"He's right. The Druids hold to friendships and loyalties for years, even when there is little or no contact. It's only been a few months, and with winter soon to set in, the clan that know him will be at their wintering grounds. There's a good chance Liam knows where their grounds are."

Hargren smiled.

"And being versed the ways of the Druids as much as you are, you would know. Very well, Fyren, go fetch Liam please. He should still be in my chambers."

Fyren got up without a word and walked out, striding down the hallway outside and plastering a semi-blank expression on his face. No one even gave him a second glance, and that was the way he liked it.

~(-)~

Arms that were a bit too short for the task, struggled to straighten and flatten the covers, their owner resorting to tugging on one side and then the other, circling back and forth around the bed.

Liam stepped back once the job was done, a little bit winded from his efforts. Why had Bern just up and _quit_ this morning? He could have at least given a bit more warning instead of dumping all his chores on _him_. The boy sighed, shaking his head. He honestly didn't care why Bern had left, since it was clearly on impulse and probably for a stupid and selfish reason. Let the stuck-up idiot crawl back to Camelot if he wanted to, it was no skin of _his_ nose.

Liam went and got the broom from where he'd left it by the door, starting to sweep the chamber. At least Lord Hargren didn't expect him to be able to do everything that Bern had been doing, not like most nobles would have. He'd promised that he'd have a new servant soon, but one thing Liam hadn't realised was _how_ soon that would be.

The door of the chambers opened, a head of scruffy red hair poking round it. Liam recognised Fyren immediately, but never expected that the man, who was well known for being quiet and a 'bit dumb', to grin at him cheerfully and declare brightly.

"Hey there, Liam, I'm Bern's replacement. Lord Hargren asked me to come get you, since he needs to ask you about something. Just put that broom down and come with me. The sweeping can wait."

Liam did as he was told, hesitantly going to the door only to be taken firmly by the shoulder and led away down the hall outside. Was this really the same Fyren he'd seen lugging crates around early this morning, with a blank look on his face? When the blank look appeared the moment any of the other staff came into view, he knew that it was... and with dawning realisation now knew the man _wanted_ people to think he was a half-wit.

They arrived at Hargren's study without incident, Fyren sending Liam in ahead of him before closing the door behind them. Inside the study sat the Lord of Ulwin and Ulwin's physician, both men regarding the boy expectantly. The conversation that followed proved to be a great surprise to Liam, but as soon as he was told _who_ it was who would be helped if he cooperated, he agreed without hesitation.

For Lady Jancine he would do anything they could ask him, it was the least he could do to repay her kindness.

It was thus, barely an hour later, that Hargren, Liam, and four soldiers rode out of Ulwin, heading off to 'inspect' the Ascetir Fortress, and if they happened to make a small detour before arriving there, well... that would just be coincidence.

~(-)~

**Alaia Skyhawk: Hmm, how to describe Fyren... He's friendly, cheerful, intensely loyal to Hargren, and good at keeping secrets. But when he's in the kind of company that won't overly object to it, he's incredibly blunt with his words, never hesitating to say things straight and to the point. He's going to be a great contrast to our now established quiet and timid Liam, lol :D**


	38. Led by a Child 'Part 2'

**Alaia Skyhawk: lol, a few people have commented that Fyren is like Merlin, and in hindsight I have to admit he is. I guess I just subconsciously wanted to write someone like him, although I can say that Fyren won't use anywhere **_**near**_** the amount of sarcasm that Merlin does, hehehe.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Merlin TV series etc, but I do own the star of this fic... LIAM!**

**Music: The Farthest Land [Reprise] (Shadow of the Colossus OST) The Dragon's Breath (Celtic Folk. For the bit with the druids onwards)**

~(-)~

Chapter 38: Led by a Child ~Part 2~

The clouds overhead threatened with rain, but none fell upon the group of six riders who headed south towards the Forest of Ascetir. The youngest of the group had been apprehensive at first, uncertain about having _soldiers_ with them for this, but then it had been explained to him just who those four men were.

Liam frowned a little, regarding the back of the warrior riding to the front of him. While he'd accepted that _Hargren_ was a supporter of magic, it had come as something of a surprise to learn he had a whole _group_ of people working for him who had the same opinion. His most trusted guards within the manor, who patrolled and watched the innermost rooms and hallways, all belonged to that group. Others who were involved were people like Forwin and Fyren, and a handful of others among the staff, and despite the size of the conspiracy, King Uther had _no idea_ it existed.

The twelve-year-old mulled it over, unable to help but be impressed. Lord Hargren was one of Uther's most trusted friends, and remained a friend even now, but he didn't let that stop him pursuing his own ideals in secret. He had no intention of _ousting_ Uther, but he had no intention of sitting back and doing nothing either.

The Druids would like him, he was sure of it, and it was with that thought that Liam smiled to himself until Hargren reached across the gap between their horses and nudged him.

"We're at the forest, Liam. You said we would need to turn off the main road. Are we close?"

Liam jolted, lifting his chin to look ahead. His green eyes roved over the terrain, looking for the familiar landmarks which the gang had used to find the hidden road built by the druids. He then pointed, his voice a little tentative, but still confident.

"That tree, the one with the broken branch, the road starts just past there."

Hargren inclined his head, smiling.

"Then lead the way. Forwin said that druid roads are protected with magic, so the creatures of the forest will not attack those travelling on it. It's safe for you to be in the front now."

Liam nudged his horse in the ribs, sending it forward when the two soldiers in front parted to let him pass. He was all set to turn his mount onto the road when one of those men exclaimed and hurried level to grab the reins, stopping the now confused Liam in his tracks.

"Wait, you can't go in there! Those roots will cripple the horses!"

Liam stared at him, and then at the pair of earthen ruts that he could clearly see turning off the main road. What roots? The road was clear but for a few straggling weeds and a light covering of dead leaves.

Hargren could read Liam's expression, and came forward speaking firmly.

"Leave him be, Timothe. I was warned by Forwin that we would not be able to see the road. It will have been enchanted to discourage would-be travellers from finding it, and the tangle of roots that _I_ can see would certainly stop me from going in there even on foot." He glanced at Liam. "Are you certain the road is there?"

Liam nodded.

"Yes, sir."

Hargren sighed.

"Then to avoid any further interruptions in our trek, we are going to do as our physician suggested... All f us but Liam will proceed from here on _blindfolded._"

All four soldiers gaped, Timothe being the one to voice what they all thought.

"But, My Lord, we would be defenceless!"

"And if we want the druids we are looking for to trust us, we must first display some trust ourselves. No arguments, blindfold yourselves _now_. We will use lead-lines to connect our horses in a string with Liam at the front. Then we will just have to trust in the eyes of a child to lead us."

There were a few more uncertain glances before the men did as ordered, the horses quickly connected into a string with Hargren in the middle and their twelve-year-old guide at the front. If Liam had been uncertain before, then this was truly daunting. Here he was leading the Lord of Ulwin and a group of soldiers, who were all blindfolded, along a road they couldn't see.

Biting his lip, he hesitated only for a moment longer before clicking his tongue and urging his horse into motion. The rest of them followed comfortably, seeing as the animals were unaffected by the spells that hid the road. Their strides were steady and even, none of them stumbling as they would have been had there really been roots on this trial.

They rode on for hours, the day slowly edging towards twilight, progressing well past the area where the Ascetir Fortress was. Here there were no patrols, no wandering travellers, no one willing to risk this dense and gloomy part of the forest and the monsters said to dwell here.

The first glimpse of movement made Liam turn his head sharply, but he managed to remain quiet and not alarm the still blindfolded men behind him. He watched carefully while continuing to follow the road, until another glimpse caught his eye and he spotted a figure in the familiar hooded robe of a druid.

Liam lifted his left hand, palm out towards the figure, before closing and opening his fist twice. He then waved it to indicate the riders he was leading, and nodded once to confirm they were with him. He then stopped the group at the next small clearing beside the track, speaking almost sharply when Timothe reached up to remove his blindfold.

"_Don't take them off!_" When the soldier frowned, Liam hastily explained. "We've been seen by one of the clan's watchmen, and I've signalled you're with me, but they might not come to us if you take them off."

Hargren spoke now, his tone and expression calm.

"I think we should all dismount, and lay our weapons on the ground. That would only be reasonable."

He got down out of his saddle with ease, even unable to see as he was. He then drew his sword and dropped it on the ground, his men following suit with a few minor grumbles. Then they waited, remaining silent so they could hear anyone approaching, but even so they did not detect the arrival of several members of the clan. It was only when Liam spotted a familiar face, and called out joyously, that they were even aware they'd crept up on them.

"Nellan!"

Liam ran to the sorcerer, throwing himself at him and getting a smile and a hug of welcome in return. Nellan then looked to the lord and the warriors, calling out to them.

"You may remove your blindfolds, but we ask that you leave your weapons and horses here. One of our group will look after them for you while we discuss your reason for being here. Come with me."

The bindings of cloth fell away, Hargren following after Liam and Nellan without hesitation. His men were a little more reluctant, but came along as well after only a moment's pause. Scattered among the trees around the clearing were a dozen men and women, most of them falling into line behind them while only one remained behind with the horses. The walk did not take long, a trail leading down into gully. That secluded pocket valley contained the crude but serviceable shelters of the clan, as well as the rest of their number. Small carved wind-chimes hanging from doorways provided magical protection, as well as identifying the clan to which this group belonged.

Hargren studied one of the wooden chimes as they passed by, musing aloud to himself.

"That's not a clan symbol I recognise."

Nellan glanced back at him, solemn.

"We do not belong to any of the main branches of our people, although we have loose ties to the Eord Cynling, the Earth Clan. We are the Oristalla Cynling, the Crystal Clan, the clan who have roamed the lands for centuries, observing the times of great prophecies and recording the events that follow... And occasionally intervening when something tries to send those destined events astray. We came here to the Forest of Ascetir when we heard news of the Great Purge, knowing that here may be the next significant chain of events. We have waited here, watching and listening, ever since."

Hargren nodded in thanks for the explanation.

"You are here to watch the paths of Emrys and the Once and Future King, aren't you? It would seem then, that we have something in common."

They reached the heart of the camp, Nellan stopping and turning to face the lord. He was smiling.

"I have heard much of you, Lord Hargren. It pleases me to find that what my fellow druids have said of you is true. You are a wise and honourable man, as well as kind and generous one." His gaze moved to Liam beside him. "I heard tell of what happened to Kalem. He did us all proud with his sacrifice. I'm glad to see you're in the care of safe hands."

Liam bit his lip, looking as though he were fighting back the sudden urge to cry. Nellan passed him to another of the druids, nodding to Hargren and indicating he follow but that his men should stay behind. They entered the largest of the shelters, the Lord of Ulwin squinting a little in the gloom until his eyes adjusted and he spotted the woman sat within.

She eyed him warily, before turning to Nellan.

"Who is this, Brother? Are we entertaining _Uther's_ men now?"

Nellan frowned a little.

"Ellyn, this is Lord Hargren... Liam led him to us, although for what reason we haven't yet discussed. We can trust him."

The woman's expression softened, and she indicated that Hargren should seat himself. Once both he and Nellan had done so, she spoke.

"I am Ellyn, leader of the Crystal Clan; the Clan of Prophecies. Nellan is, of course, my brother. Kalem said as much that he had entrusted Liam to you, and it seems that you have gained Liam's trust. Kalem would be pleased."

Hargren stared in surprise, stunned by her statement.

"You've _seen_ Kalem since his escape?"

Both druids nodded, Ellyn sighing.

"He explained that he'd been able to infer to you that you shouldn't tell Liam if he escaped. He paid us a visit to get supplies, before heading for the northern lands. It was his intention to seek out one of the High Priests or Priestesses that live there, so that he could train to one day join their number. When he will return south to the areas banning magic, if ever, we do not know."

Hargren also sighed, looking relieved.

"Well at least I know he made it this far. It is a weight off my heart to know he has gone to safer lands than these. I only knew him for a few days, but even so he struck me as a young man who will make a fine leader within the magical community."

Nellan smiled.

"Indeed, he will do me proud. I knew I chose well when I started tutoring him in magic."

When Hargren once again fell silent in surprise, Ellyn gave her brother a reproving glance before getting down to business.

"Enough of this talk, for I'm sure you don't have time you can afford to spare on idle chatter. Why is it that you have sought us out?"

The lord hesitated, and then explained.

"I came to seek help for my wife, to ask for the assistance of magic to cure her illness. My physician, Forwin, said that her condition should be easily treatable by one of your healers... I do not ask for this with nothing in return. I will gladly offer assistance in the future should ever you need it. Simply ask it of me, and I will do as best I can to aid you."

The siblings looked at one another, before Nellan spoke for both of them.

"We will gladly help you and your wife, for just as you are well known among our people for your honour, so is she known for her kindness. I would suggest our healer, Bryce, go with you, but his skills are with herbs and you yourself have stated that magic is needed. So it would appear that I am the one who will be coming with you." He smiled. "We have a few sorcerers who can enhance medicines with magic, so I'm not strictly needed here. If you are amenable, then perhaps I could become the liaison between you and your allies, and my clan?"

Hargren reached out to shake the hand that was offered to him, smiling and determined.

"It would be my honour to accept you as liaison. Anyone who is teacher to a fine young man like Kalem, is worthy of respect."

Ellyn raised her eyebrows a little, getting to her feet.

"Then I guess you don't need any input from me. I approve of this, and give it my blessings, seeing as both our groups are watching and waiting for the return of magic. Together we will be able to keep watch better than we would separately."

The three of them left the shelter, heading to where Liam was being fussed over by the clan. Timothe and the other soldiers had now relaxed, reassured by the warm welcome the child had received, and it was thus that they returned to the horses.

When they arrived, Hargren and his men froze in shock when they realised they were now able to see the road, Nellan chuckling at their reaction.

"When my sister says she trusts you, that marks you as friends... Feel free to visit here whenever you wish, although _do_ make sure you're not followed." He laughed, jogging ahead down the earthen road. "I'll meet on the road south of Ulwin, when you've finished whatever business is your excuse for heading this way."

Hargren watched him go, a little bemused as he accepted his sword when it was handed back to him.

"Not much seems to slip by him. I can see why his clan are so good at keeping watch on things."

Liam glanced over, not surprised in the slightest. He knew that Nellan had more up his sleeves than just observation.

~(-)~

**Alaia Skyhawk: So, finally some info about Nellan and his clan. They're going to be quite significant in this fic :)**


	39. Led by a Child 'Part 3'

**Alaia Skyhawk: The name of the piece of music I used while writing this chapter is quite appropriate. You'll see why towards the end.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Merlin TV series etc, but I do own the star of this fic... LIAM!**

**Music: Memories (Shadow of the Colossus OST)**

~(-)~

Chapter 39: Led by a Child ~Part 3~

Liam waited alongside Fyren, the two of them deep in the bowels of the manor. Nellan had met up he and Hargren as promised, before being told where to find the exit of the escape tunnel whose entrance the two servants now stood beside. Liam was carrying a change of clothing for the druid, so that he could walk through the upper levels without being noted. Once clothed like a regular commoner, no one would pay him any notice.

Footsteps soon sounded, a faint glow coming into view. The glow came from a crystal that Nellan was carrying, which he put into a pouch as soon as he reached the light from Fyren's torch. He smiled at the pair, nodding in greeting to Fyren.

"Quite a hike through that tunnel, I must say... I hope Lord Hargren doesn't intend for me to enter the manor this way _every_ time."

Fyren laughed, shaking his head.

"No, he won't. Liam here has some clothing for you. Wear it the next time you come and you can just come in the front gate. There's a ring as well, Hargren's version of the Trusted Retainer rings that King Uther uses, but he advises against wearing it openly. Show it to the guards to enter the inner parts of the castle when you visit, but otherwise keep it hidden."

He rolled up one of his sleeves, revealing that he had his ring looped onto a leather cord tied firmly around his arm just below his elbow. Easy to reach, but otherwise out of sight.

Nellan accepted the bundle Liam gave him, quickly changing out of his tattered homespun robes and into the clean shirt and breeches. He lastly tugged on the offered jacket, before examining the ring that elder of the two servants handed him. It was a silver signet ring just like those Uther gave those commoners he trusted most, but instead of a dragon it was marked with Ulwin's crest. He put it into the pouch with the crystal he'd used as a light, tucking it inside his new shirt and nodding.

"Well, now that that is sorted, shall we get moving? The sooner I can treat Lady Jancine, the sooner Lord Hargren and I will be able to discuss the matter of the alliance between Ulwin and my clan."

Fyren nodded, before frowning slightly when he noticed that Nellan didn't have a bag with him.

"Didn't you bring any medicines?"

Nellan smiled.

"Lord Hargren has a physician working for him, does he not? I know Forwin, although it's been nearly fifteen years since we last spoke. But fifteen years is nothing to druids when it comes to friendships. His clan had close ties to mine until they were wiped out in the Purge."

Both Liam and Fyren stiffened, the former gaping.

"Forwin's a druid?"

Nellan's expression became solemn.

"_Was_ a druid. My clan offered him sanctuary when we got the news that Uther had caught his, but he opted to remain in Ulwin and work for Hargren. He's part of the reason that many druids hold such respect for him, even if he did abandon our ways in order to avoid detection by Uther. Rumour has it that he even went so far as to cut away his druid tattoos, so there would be no evidence left of his origins."

Fyren grimaced.

"Wow... It's no wonder he's such a grouch. I always thought he was cranky just because he preferred to annoy people rather than pander to them." He noticed that Liam had gone quiet, nudging him. "What's wrong, kid?"

Liam didn't look up, his voice quiet.

"So that's who he lost... Lady Jancine said I shared that in common with him, that we'd both lost someone to the laws against magic, but I only lost Kalem... He lost his entire family..."

Nellan crouched down, putting his hands on Liam's shoulders.

"Don't pity him, Liam, the Forwin I remember wouldn't want that. He's getting on with his life, and doing what he believes is best, and that's all that matters. Thinking about the past doesn't change things, it just drags you down and makes you forget the future." He stood up. "We'd better move. As enlightening as this conversation has been for both of you, Lord Hargren and Lady Jancine are still waiting for us upstairs."

They headed for the upper levels, Fyren extinguishing his torch and leaving it in the rack for them when they reached it. Just as promised, the change of clothing meant that no one paid any attention to Nellan. They reached Lady Jancine's chambers without incident, arriving to find that Lord Hargren and Forwin were already there with her.

Forwin stared at Nellan for a moment when he saw him, before frowning the tiniest bit in uncertainty until the druid gave him a small smile of reassurance. That was enough to get the physician to greet him.

"Hale, Nellan... How fares your clan?"

The reply came with a smile, but also a hint of sadness. He could not ask Forwin the same.

"My clan fares well, Forwin, and my sister is leader now."

The former druid sighed.

"That is good to hear." He indicated the spread of tools and materials he'd set out on the table in the main part of Jancine's chambers. "I've already prepared everything you'll need. I'd have cured her myself a long time ago, except that I don't have magic. All I've been able to do is keep her as comfortable as I could."

Nellan's manner changed, becoming focused and businesslike.

"So what is it she's suffering from? Lord Hargren didn't specify when he came to ask for help."

Liam and Fyren left them to their discussion, moving to the side of the chambers where Hargren sat with Jancine. She smiled when she saw them, beckoning for Liam to come sit on the edge of the bed beside her.

"I'm guessing that Forwin and our guest have started work."

Liam nodded cheerfully.

"Yeah, they have... I think Forwin might be really happy to see Nellan."

Fyren chuckled.

"Although he's not about to admit it."

Hargren smiled.

"I instructed Forwin that he and Nellan are to ensure Jancine's recovery is gradual, and looks natural. It will mean a delay in her being able to get up and about again, but it's better than risking a sudden miraculous recovery drawing Uther's attention."

Jancine glanced at her husband, placing a hand on his.

"My husband, as you can see, would rather not have me wait to fully recover. He really worries far too much."

"_Jancine._"

She smiled at his reaction to the tease, turning to Liam and Fyren.

"Why don't you three go to his study and wait there. I'll send Forwin and Nellan to you as soon as they're done. If you don't go, then I will tell Forwin that you are fussing too much."

Hargren got up immediately, sighing as he did so. She'd used that threat in the past, and if he didn't listen to her then it had always resulted in Forwin bodily pushing him out of the door. When it came to treating his patients, the physician made exceptions for no one.

The Lord of Ulwin looked a little embarrassed as they made their way to his study, although Fyren didn't remark on it. He liked to speak his mind, but at the same time he also held great respect for the man, and teasing him about being manipulated by his wife was not a good way to show that. They ended up waiting in the study for almost half an hour before Nellan and Forwin arrived, a span of time spend in slightly uncomfortable silence. Hargren could have dealt with some of his paperwork during that, but with so many things currently on his mind, concentrating would have been a problem.

The two of them retrieved chairs from the side of the room, placing themselves beside Fyren and Liam where they sat opposite the lord at his desk. As soon as they were settled, Hargren turned his attention to his physician.

"How is Jancine?"

Forwin glanced at Nellan, before replying in his usual gruff tone.

"Nellan has made an ample supply of the medicine for her, carefully spelled so that she will recover gradually. She will be cured by spring, My Lord. If anyone asks, I will simply state that I chanced across an alternate treatment for her, and it was successful. No one will be the wiser."

Hargren sighed, reassured.

"Thank you, both of you. It gladdens me to know she will no longer be confined to her chambers. Her presence around the manor has been sorely missed by all."

Nellan smiled.

"No thanks are required, it is the way of the Druids to help those in need when we are able to. It is just a shame that Uther's blindness with regards to magic has greatly hindered that."

Forwin began to grumble quietly, but clearly.

"My Lord, I don't understand why you don't just shunt Uther out of the way. There are _more_ than a few people in the magical community that, with word from Nellan or I, would support you in ousting him. You could be regent of Camelot, and raise Prince Arthur to _properly _respect magic... After all, he _is _one of the three princes they say could be the Once and Future King, although to be honest he's the most likely one."

Hargren frowned.

"If he is, then interference from me could irreparably change his destiny and cause the prophecy to fail. I will not turn against Uther, no matter how often you suggest it to me, Forwin. Right now we don't even know if Emrys has been born yet. The time of the prophecy could be _decades_ away for all we know, and if we act rashly we would irreversibly destroy it."

All eyes turned to Nellan, who as a member of the Crystal Clan was the most versed in the various versions of the it.

"There have been portents, visions by one of the seers among the Druid Clans, that confirm that both the Once and Future King, _and_ Emrys, have arisen." He started to look a little uneasy. "And that's the problem. Quite frankly, most of those interested in the prophecy don't give a damn which of those princes is the Once and Future King. All the focus is on Emrys."

Liam shuffled forward on his seat, so he could better see Nellan's face.

"Why?"

Hargren was the one to answer him.

"I would guess there are some in the magical community, with less than noble intentions, who want to find him so they can _control _him. The prophecy says he will be the most powerful sorcerer to ever live, and regardless of whether or not the foretold events succeed, that will remain true."

Nellan nodded solemnly.

"There are some who do not care if the founding of Albion does not happen. Instead they wish to unite the lands under their own banner, a banner of oppression."

Forwin raised his greying eyebrows.

"Cenrid?"

Nellan sighed.

"He's one of them, and he's already been discretely searching for Emrys. As the Clan of Prophecies, my ancestors swore, a long time ago when the prophecy was first made, that when the time came we would protect Emrys until he started down the road of his destiny. The problem is, we don't know where to find him, and that puts us at a disadvantage. Our opponents do not care about taking him by force, and yet we want to protect him without him knowing it. We can't let anything risk influencing him, but those we are competing against do not have that restriction. Without someone who can sense him, we're searching _blind_."

Hargren folded his hands upon his desk, thoughtful.

"Have you tried moving about and testing people for magic? I believe that the method was simple enough, or so Forwin once said."

Forwin shook his head.

"All the test does is determine if someone has the ability to draw on magic, which is the base requirement to become a sorcerer. It doesn't reveal if the individual is also a warlock, a person born with a well of power _inside_ in addition to whatever degree of ability they have to draw on the natural energy of the world around them. That ability far more common than most people think, so all we'd learn from it is the names of _dozens _of people with potential, but have no idea how strong any of them are. Most would barely be able to light a candle, and the rest would most likely just be your common garden variety of sorcerers if they ever bothered to make use of their potential. It would be a waste of time, and even done discretely it could draw attention. We're just lucky that the Druids are the only ones who know how to test for it, or Cenrid would be scouring every possible candidate from his lands as we speak."

Nellan frowned in concern.

"And even if we pursued that course of action, following up with the more specific tests to determine the strength and type of sorcerer each person was, it would defeat the whole point of secrecy. We _don't_ want Emrys to know who he is yet, and certainly not to know he's being watched and protected. If that happened, it could ruin everything."

Silence fell in the study, all those present trying to think of what else they could do. Only one of them had a solution, a small tentative voice speaking out after thinking seriously about whether or not he should say anything.

"I... I know where he is..."

The reaction was instant, all four men rising to their feet and staring at him. It was Forwin who spoke first, spluttering in disbelief.

"How could _you _possibly know?"

Liam hunched down in his chair nervously.

"Kalem met him three years ago. He was one of those special people who just _know_ Emrys on sight. He didn't tell anyone else in the gang, but he did tell me. He made me promise not say anything about it, but you need to know so you can protect him from King Cenrid. Kalem kept quiet to protect him, but if Cenrid is looking for him, then keeping quiet might not be enough."

Nellan leaned down so his eyes were level with Liam's, his tone urgent.

"Tell us _everything_ you know, Liam. His real name, what he looks like, and where he is."

Liam frowned.

"I only know where he is. The only people in the gang who saw him were Kalem, Uren, and Ril. Uren and Ril just thought he was a regular warlock like Kalem was, but Kalem knew he wasn't. He went and spoke to him the next day, to make sure he was right, and he was. The kid he saw really _was_ Emrys. He could tell."

Hargren got his map off the wall, laying it on his desk.

"Show us where you were when Kalem saw him."

Liam got down from his chair, walking over to the desk, and after thinking for a few seconds he pointed to a spot east of the Forest of Ascetir... and inside the border of Cenrid's lands.

"There's a village around here somewhere. That's where he lives. Kalem said he was about the same age as me."

Nellan's eyes became distant with thought.

"Ealdor... It's the only village that close to the Forest of Ascetir, and it's remote enough from all the main trade roads that few give it any attention. We're lucky, with it so close to the forest, my clan should be able to arrange some protection to cloud the area without drawing attention to it. If Emrys is really the same age as Liam, then that puts him just a couple of years younger than Prince Arthur. The other two princes that are suspect, are both nearly six years older. Somehow I doubt either of them will be the Once and Future King."

Fyren raised his eyebrows.

"Are you sure about that? Because Prince Arthur is fast becoming a guy with an ego the size of a dragon's backside."

Nellan gave him a long look in reproof before answering.

"There's just too much symmetry in having Emrys and Arthur live so close and yet distant due to the border between their homes. Much like the border created by the Purge; Arthur born before it started, and Emrys born after the worst of the savagery had ended. Then there's the fact that for the son of the one who banned magic, to return it to land, also provides symmetry. It's almost unbelievable to think that the fact Emrys lives on Cenrid's lands, means that the random searches carried out by Uther within Camelot have no chance of detecting him. It is an irony that a man who will inevitably be an enemy to Emrys, and who wishes to find and control him, should right now be a factor in him not yet being discovered."

Forwin's musing drew their attention, his expression serious.

"But what now? It's all and well the three of us, and your clan, knowing where he is. We can all be counted on to keep quiet even if we were tortured... But what about him?" He glanced at Liam. "Does he deserve to have to live under the weight of all this secrecy. Assisting us in helping people with magic is one thing, but being part of something as serious as concealing Emrys is a totally different situation."

Liam, a bit bewildered, looked between them in confusion as Hargren spoke.

"Nellan, can you use your magic to suppress his memories of Emrys and his location? It will be safer for him, and for Emrys, if he can no longer remember it."

Nellan glanced at Hargren, before turning to Liam thoughtfully.

"Liam, I know you understand we wouldn't do this if we didn't think it was best for you, so I want you to cooperate. Will you?"

Liam, after hesitating, nodded slowly.

"You won't make me forget Kalem, will you?"

Nellan, shook his head.

"No, just the bits about Emrys. There are two ways we can do it, but I'd rather use the first way. I'll need you to help me though. Ok?"

"Ok."

Nellan eyed the other men in the room, before murmuring quietly to Liam.

"This is sort of like promise, a special promise, an oath. If it works, when you make it, you'll forget. If it doesn't work, I'll have to do it the other way. So, I need you to really _mean_ this. Say after me. 'I am Liam Morranson'."

"I am Liam Morranson."

"Ic asweree be Fyrnweorc Drylac, ic nae Emrys."

"_Ic asweree be Fyrnweorc Drylac, ic nae Emrys_."

"He aswindeep fram ingemynd."

"_He aswindeep fram ingemynd._"

"Ic ofergitolian hine."

"_Ic ofergitolian hine..._"

There was a long pause, Liam still staring silently into Nellan's eyes, before he started to frown in confusion and rubbed at his head as if he had a headache. Nellan then prompted him with a question.

"Liam, do you remember what we were talking about?"

Liam, his frown deepening, continued to look confused.

"Talking?"

"Does 'Emrys' mean anything to you?"

Liam tilted his head, completely baffled.

"What's 'Emrys'?"

Nellan looked meaningfully at Hargren, who took the hint and spoke to Liam.

"It's nothing... Liam, as it's nearly time for the evening meal, would you go the kitchens and tell them I will be dining with two guests in the small dining hall."

Liam nodded, and hurried to the door.

"Yes, sir."

Once Liam was gone, Hargren frowned and turned to Nellan.

"What did you do to him?"

It was a rather unhappy Forwin who answered... He was not happy _at all_.

"_He_ did nothing; Liam did it to himself. Nellan just make him swear to the Old Magic, that his memories of Emrys would fade, and that he would forget him." He glared at Nellan. "Why didn't you say the kid had magical potential? You've just _sabotaged_ him."

Hargren stared in surprise.

"Liam has magic?"

Nellan sighed, explaining.

"As Forwin said, the potential for it far more common than people think, it's just that few are strong enough or have the inclination to study it. His is still dormant, and so minor he wouldn't have been able to start using it until his early twenties anyway. Kalem noticed it nearly two years ago, due to him having such close contact with him, and mentioned it to me. The next chance I got, I discretely tested him. Kalem is one of the strongest warlocks I've ever encountered, and comparing Liam's latent spark to his inborn talent is like comparing a tiny unlit candle to a blazing bonfire. He would never have had a chance of being more than a rather limited hedgewizard. He would only ever have been a sorcerer of the weakest and commonest sort."

Forwin continued to glower.

"And now he won't even have _that_, not until that oath wears off... Whenever that will happen."

Hargren frowned.

"What exactly are you talking about?"

The physician tore his angry stare away from Nellan, acknowledging the question by facing the lord.

"Only someone with the ability to learn and use sorcery can make an oath like that to the Old Magic, but all the Old Magic does in return is use their _own_ ability to do what it is they swore to. Liam's own tiny potential has, thanks to that oath he just made, blanked out all his previous memories of Emrys. He'll remember anything he hears from now on, but that's all he'll remember about him. And in the meantime, he'll have almost no spare potential left for even simple spells... It's like he's maintaining a continuous spell on himself, except it's not actually a spell."

Nellan, attempting to mollify his old acquaintances ire, pointed out the loophole.

"But while he did make an oath, because he's still a child he won't be held to it _permanently _like an adult would. Eventually the Old Magic will decide on its own to release him, when it seems the time is right." He then winced. "Even then, though, the chances of him being able to do anything with it are slim, and by nature of the fact he's the commonest sort of sorcerer potential, he won't be able to learn anything unless trained. It's not the type of magic you can discover on your own, someone has to teach you."

Fyren sat himself down again, thoughtful.

"So one day, he might be able to learn magic if he decides he wants to?"

Nellan sighed.

"Not necessarily. I'll admit that what I just had him do, could ruin his potential for magic for life, but it was better than the alternative. If I'd had to blank his memories by force, it would mean suppressing massive pieces of it. He'd have had parts where whole _months _of memories would be gone from his reach, including memories of Kalem and even the time he's spent here since Kalem's escape. This way was kinder, and left the rest of his memories untouched. The price of that is that he may continue unknowingly suppressing those memories, even _after_ the Old Magic has released him from his oath."

Hargren ran a hand though his hair, regretful of this whole situation. They'd repaid Liam for his help by possibly ruining something he might have wanted to pursue someday.

"It's all for the best, I suppose. His ignorance will now shield him, and let us be the only ones to worry about Emrys. It's a shame though, seeing as he's being trained to be my assistant. Having someone close to me, with even limited magic, would have been reassurance for any I deal with who are part of the magical community."

Nellan sat down, equally regretful, but he had to look on the bright side.

"Well, he may have no talent for magic, but you have Forwin, and if you'd like, I could be a liaison for you as well... When I can spare the time, that is."

Hargren nodded, sitting down behind his desk.

"What will you do now, Nellan?"

Nellan started to smile.

"Well my clan _has_ started visiting some of our brethren within Cenrid's kingdom a bit more often. I think we'll be investing some time and magic in a new hidden road, and if that road just _happens_ to pass fairly close to Ealdor... Well I guess that's just happen-stance."

Everyone was in agreement, talk turning to other matters before Fyren returned to his chores and Hargren went to the dining hall with Forwin and Nellan. Little additional thought was given to Liam that night, no one realising that he wasn't quite as ignorant as they'd have hoped. For when night fell and all the manor residents went to their slumber, one young boy stayed awake... Trying to figure out why he felt like he should remember something, yet unable to understand why.

Liam frowned to himself in the night darkness, his blanket pulled up to his chin while he stared at his ceiling. Every time he tried to remember, a dull ache would spring up between his eyes, distracting him. It felt like he was missing something, but he couldn't put his finger on it. Instead the tiredness that comes with a long day crept up on him, and he drifted off into slumber with an echo of strange words at the edge of his mind.

_Ic ofergitolian hine... I forget him..._

~(-)~

**Alaia Skyhawk: "I swear to the Old Magic, I will be ignorant of Emrys. He will fade in my recollection. I forget him." ...Yes, I'm guilty of giving Liam a **_**tiny**_** bit of magic, although I did explain that the base ability for magic is more common than people think and Uther would like. I just thought it would be neat for Gaius to be able to teach him to make medicines stronger in A Question of Motives, the way Nellan spelled the medicine for Jancine. Liam isn't going to be throwing fireballs around or anything, but I can picture him putting simple magic on potions and making Merlin or Arthur drink them no matter **_**how**_** bad they taste XD**


	40. To Serve a Noble 'Part 1'

**Alaia Skyhawk: Here's the next big time skip. There's only going to be one more after the next couple of episodes, which is when this fic will reach the halfway point and it starts to run alongside the events of the show. Things are going to get interesting :)**

**And on a side note, I posted a oneshot called "A Question of a Perfect Day" for a bit of fun. So if you want a bit of a chuckle I recommend taking a look at it.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Merlin TV series etc, but I do own the star of this fic... LIAM!**

**Music: Flying through the Country (Folk Music)**

~(-)~

Chapter 40: To Serve a Noble ~Part 1~

Fingers of dawn light came in through the open shutter on the window, their bright glare making the figure in the bed groan and hide beneath his blanket. Why did it have to be _sunny_ when he was having one of these days? It just wasn't fair.

The blanket was thrown back, and the reluctant teenager that had been beneath it got out of bed. Three and a half years had seen him grow more than a few inches in height, in fact he was almost taller than Fyren, but at sixteen he still had some muscle to put on his bones.

Long story short, he was skinny and likely to stay that way...

Liam sighed, rubbing at the ache between his eyes, in between pulling on his breeches and shirt. He'd been having a weird dream, about being with Kalem and the gang on some idle trip, and he'd been talking to the sorcerer about something once everyone else was asleep. But then, just like every time he had weird dreams about talking to Kalem about something, he was woken up by the mother of all headaches.

Muttering curses under his breath, Liam left his room in the servants' wing and made a beeline for the small dining hall next to the kitchens. It was still early enough that the majority of the servants who served nobles hadn't shown up for breakfast, but the quiet wouldn't last long. Rather than idle through his breakfast, since Fyren was responsible for tending to Lord Hargren's food and such, he quickly cleared his bowl of porridge and left the room before the rush of less prompt servants crammed their way in here before hurrying to wake their masters.

He passed the first few individuals of that rush on his way out, snorting to himself in amusement. He'd heard enough gossip coming in from Camelot, to know that the staff in _that_ castle would never get away with the late starts the servants here seemed to take for granted. As for him, he always started early, because that way he'd get more time to himself later on for _personal _diversions.

Liam headed out of the main entrance, crossing the manor grounds and walking towards the Garrison. A few of the soldiers waved to him, to which he half-heartedly waved back in return. Any number of the people here had tried to make friends with him, but he always kept them at a distance. He'd lost too many people in his life to let others get close, with the exception of Lord Hargren, Jancine, Nellan, Clara... and one other. He might have added Forwin to that list, but the former druid tended to avoid him unless there was business of some sort involved... Fyren had just pegged it to being Forwin's usual grumpy demeanour, and told him not to take it personally.

Entering the garrison was a daily affair, part of the same old routine of going to the commander to get the patrol reports, before heading back into the manor. He'd then have to go to the Chief of Housekeeping, who coordinated the head of staff and the quartermaster who monitored the manor's supplies, for any reports he might have, and then trail _all_ the way from there to office of the clerk in charge of collecting the various messages from the couriers that came and went at all times and hours of the day.

Liam sighed as he stuffed the last of rolled up or folded pieces of paper into the bag slung across his torso. This old bag had seen some use since Clara gave it to him for his slate and books, but it was still more than serviceable enough to carry reports and such. It kept his hands free for other things, like grabbing onto the corner he'd just passed and yanking himself out of sight when he spotted Tarven in the adjacent hallway.

He waited until the young lord had gone before resuming his walk. It wasn't that Tarven bothered him much these days, but he was never friendly either. Both of them preferred it if they didn't meet, and that suited Liam just fine. For that reason he always went out of his way to avoid Hargren's son, excepting occasions when he couldn't find an excuse to get out of it.

Green eyes narrowed within his bemused expression, remembering the last formal event he'd been required to work at. He'd been set to wait on a visiting dignitary, and Lady Jancine had fussed over his clothing for an _hour_ making sure no wrinkle or crease would mar it... She'd then proceeded to wet his hair and tame it from his preferred semi-scruffy tangle, and he'd been teased by Fyren relentlessly for _three days_ afterwards because he'd spotted Tarven struggling to keep a straight face because of it.

He kept walking, his arrival at Hargren's study coming with no fanfare and no acknowledgement, not that he'd get one unless he expected the desk to tell him 'good job' when he sat himself in Hargren's chair. It might have seemed presumptuous for him to do so, but it made sorting through all the reports a damn sight easier on his back than leaning over the desk while stood up. Why he should strain his back when the lord wouldn't be here for another half an hour _minimum_, there really was no reason. So he sat in the cushioned chair in comfort, opening the reports and scanning through the top three lines of each so he could separate them by type and urgency. He then picked up the pile containing the 'domestic' reports and requests and went to the tiny little side-table by the wall, sitting down at it and starting to work his way through them.

The Chief of Housekeeping would have a _fit_ if he knew Hargren had given a sixteen-year-old _servingboy_ the task of judging on complaints and things from among the nobles, but it meant the Lord of Ulwin didn't have to waste valuable time on them. Sure, Liam would still pass what turned out to be more serious ones onto him, but he had to admit he got a certain sense of justice from this... From knowing that when one noble got a proverbial spanking for starting something against another noble, the reprimand wasn't coming from Hargren, but from _him_.

He allowed himself a small chuckle, when one of the messages turned out to be _that_ sort of complaint. After reading it through and composing a suitable 'verbatim'-style reply, he wrote it out in the manner a scribe would when recording what their employer was saying in response. He then sealed it with a replica of the Lord of Ulwin's seal that Hargren had given him, which was conveniently located in the box that resided on this table. He need never fear someone would spot the impression in the wax wasn't from the original seal that was kept in the locked cabinet behind the desk, since a replica made using magic couldn't be anything less than a perfect copy when it was _Nellan _doing the copying.

Job done, Liam put the replies he'd written into his bag and left the study, passing by both Lord Hargren and Fyren on his way to deliver them. A lot of people believed that being a servant was boring, but when you worked for a man at the heart of a conspiracy, it was anything but. The grin that Fyren directed at him was proof of that.

~(-)~

Long dark hair hung in luxuriant tresses, gently curled to emphasise its glossy sheen. Few but a noblewoman could spare the time and effort to make their hair look this perfect, but then time was something this particular lady had more of than she really wanted.

There were times when being the King of Camelot's ward was truly tedious.

Morgana sighed, running a brush through her hair one last time and staring into the mirror of her dressing table. It was hard to believe she'd been here for seven years, seven years since as a ten-year-old girl she'd learnt her father had died... and seven years since she'd gained the one friend that made living in Camelot bearable.

Pale blue eyes moved from their owner's reflection to that of the maid making the bed, Gwen spotting the regard and smiling. Morgana turned in her chair to face her, the one who had dragged her from depression. It wasn't often that they voiced the word 'friend' to describe each other, but they knew that was what they were. Both of them had lost a loved one, and both of them had helped each other through the sorrow. It had forged an informal relationship between them that few maids could boast. Many noblewomen were too concerned with airs and graces for their own good.

"Were you able to find that dress I asked for?"

Gwen gave the covers of the bed one last smooth over, nodding in response.

"It was stored with your spare summer dresses, instead of the formal gowns. I've already had a word with the staff in the laundry about where that one belongs in future."

Morgana shook her head and sighed.

"There are times I wonder if I have _far_ too many dresses."

Gwen chuckled.

"But then there are just as many times when the king offers to get you another, for some special occasion, and you just can't resist. I've already had the dress pressed. It's on the stand behind the screen."

Morgana sighed again.

"I wish I could go out riding today, but I'd never hear the end of it if I was late for the banquet. So what if Arthur turned eighteen today? It's not like he's old enough to be granted his knighthood, he already _has_ it."

The maid came over, heading for the table where the breakfast things were. She began to load the empty plate and cup onto a tray, murmuring as she did so.

"He did work hard for it, My Lady. Surely you remember the time it took him to convince his father to allow it when he turned sixteen."

Morgana snorted in amusement.

"I do... He went out of his way to ask the king at every opportunity he could without acting like a spoiled brat... Even though he is. And as if he doesn't have a big enough opinion of himself already, I heard that his father has commissioned an entire new set of armour for him. What's the point? If he puts on another inch in height as everyone thinks he will, the whole thing will have to be reworked to make it fit him."

"Or it could be that my father has deliberately made the set for someone an inch taller than Prince Arthur, and in a few months it will fit him perfectly. He won't even notice it, I made sure the padded tunic to go under it is extra thick on the shoulders."

Morgana gave her maid an amused look.

"You mean thick like Arthur's head?" Gwen's expression became a little reproving, and Morgana smiled. "I should have realised that your father was making it. However did he manage to secure the commission?"

Gwen folded her arms across her chest, the seventeen-year-old far from fooled.

"I think _you_ should be telling _me_ that, My Lady... You are, after all, quite good a whispering suggestions in people's ears."

Morgana chuckled, holding a hand up in surrender.

"All right, I admit I might have mentioned Tom to Uther, but only because I thought he would do a better job than the royal sword-smith. A man who has more to gain from a job well done, is a man who will put the most effort into it. You never know, it might mean more commissions sent your father's way."

Gwen shook her head.

"I appreciate the thought, but that's not likely. This once maybe, but if King Uther were to replace the royal sword-smith with my father, there would be an uproar. Jaden has too many connections to the nobility. He'll be annoyed enough as it is about this job."

Morgana expression became dismissive.

"Not really, he got the job of making the sword to go with the armour. As far as I've been able to find out, he's been fussing over getting it perfect for the last two days. Why do you think my gift for Arthur is a set of leather gloves to go under his new gauntlets, and a new sword belt? I thought, seeing as my guardian has put so much into arranging the armour, that I might as well complete the set."

Gwen picked up the tray of breakfast things, heading for the door.

"Well at least he's easy to please. Gloves and a belt to go with his armour will suit him just fine."

Morgana called out after her, her next remark giving rise to a smile on her maid's face.

"They do say that simple things please simple minds."

Gwen closed the door, setting off for the kitchens. Where once the size of the castle had daunted her, it was very much home now. The passages and faces were familiar, as was the everyday duties. There was comfort in knowing she had a secure job in a place like this, but even the castle had its downsides... and one of Camelot's was coming in the opposite direction heading for the nobles' wing.

His muddy-brown eyes lit up as he spotted her, and he smiled beneath his limp and equally muddy-brown like it was supposed to impress her.

"Gwen! How are you?"

She tried to step around him, but was forced to stop when he moved to block her... This really was tiresome.

"I'm fine, Bern, but I need to take these to the kitchens. Lady Morgana has given me a list of things she needs me to do before for banquet tonight."

Bern hesitated, being an individual who would always put duties first. He was a complete boot-licker, pandering to every request his master asked of him... Was it really any wonder that Arthur was becoming so arrogant?

"Oh... I'll let you get to your work then... But maybe you would like to come to the tavern with me tonight? We could talk, get something to eat."

Hiding her desire to tell him to get lost, Gwen pushed her way past him as graciously as she could.

"I _really_ need to get going, and so should you. Prince Arthur won't be happy if you're late for whatever you were heading to do."

Bern, reminded of the bundle he was carrying, jolted into action.

"He wanted his cloak pressed! I have to get it to him!"

He darted away, Gwen sighing in relief. Please let Arthur get a different servant someday... If he kept Bern forever, then he was going to be impossible to live with. Camelot did _not_ need a king with that much pride.

~(-)~

**Alaia Skyhawk: Hehee, we all know that Gwen will get her wish lol, although not for another three years timeline-wise. I had fun writing her and Morgana in this, if only our dear yet-to-become witch didn't turn so bitter in the future. Ah well.**


	41. To Serve a Noble 'Part 2'

**Alaia Skyhawk: Here we go, next chapter :D**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Merlin TV series etc, but I do own the star of this fic... LIAM!**

**Music: Hunith's Letter to Gaius (Merlin OST)**

~(-)~

Chapter 41: To Serve a Noble ~Part 2~

The lord at the desk read through the documents set before him, following the usual routine that dictated his days when nothing _unusual_ happened to be on hand. Things had turned quiet after that fateful meeting, where they had discussed Emrys and learnt by chance that Liam knew where he could be found. Nellan had left the following morning, only returning for brief visits on a handful of occasions in the years since. His clan had also been illusive, barring a visit from a member called Bryce, who came to check that Jancine had fully recovered from her illness.

Now _that_ had caused a small stir, even if her recovery had been slow and apparently natural. Once again he'd been host to none other than Gaius, King Uther's physician, and Forwin had shown him a perfectly innocent mixture similar to the one he'd actually been giving to her. Gaius hadn't been able to refute that the new remedy could indeed have aided in her recovery, and the matter had been dropped and set aside as mere good fortune.

It was a reminder though, that while Uther might be ignorant as to much of the real workings of magic, his physician was not. He, Hargren, had _seen_ the glint of suspicion in the old man's eyes...

Hargren sighed, shaking his head. It was hard to guess _who's_ side Gaius was really on. The man used to be Camelot's representative and liaison with the magical community, a welcome visitor at the Isle of the Blessed. Those who dared to remember knew he had once been a sorcerer, but that he had abandoned magic and taken Uther's side when the Purge began. He'd then turned a blind eye as people who had once respected him, died by fire, blade, or drowning as he stood by and did _nothing_. And yet it had been clear to anyone actually looking for it, that Gaius was almost certain that Jancine's recovery was due to magic. Why he had not mentioned such to Uther could only be for one of two reasons.

Either he didn't actually _agree_ with Uther, and had turned a blind eye to save his own life, but still accepted magic being used so long as it wasn't discovered... Or he had felt he _couldn't_ tell Uther, because the king would never believe that one of his most trusted friends and allies was in fact conspiring to use it despite the law. No matter which it was, neither would cast him in a good light among those in the magical community.

The lord sighed, shaking his head and turning his mind back to more important matters than musing over ifs and maybes. The border with Cenrid's kingdom had gone quiet, almost too quiet, and it was starting to become a bit unnerving. What if something had happened, and Cenrid had _other_ things to tend to than harassing Camelot? What if it meant...

The door of the study opened, the sight of the man who entered through it bringing a feeling of relief to the man at the desk. Why was that druids have a habit of showing up _exactly_ when you need to speak to one, and _this_ one in particular.

Hargren rose to his feet, genuinely glad to see him.

"Nellan, it's been a while."

The druid, not looking entirely comfortable in a shirt and breeches when he was used to robes, glanced at the side table to confirm that Liam wasn't present before smiling at the Lord of Ulwin.

"You have my apologies, but as you can probably understand my clan have been somewhat busy." He fiddled with the signet ring he was holding, returning it to the pouch he'd kept it in ever since receiving it, but as he did so he tilted his head to indicate somewhere outside this room. "First time I've had to use this to get in here. New recruit?"

Hargren gestured for Nellan to grab a chair, the druid doing so as he replied.

"His cousin was executed six months ago. He was all set to go on a vendetta against Uther, until I pointed out to him that there are other ways to make a difference than recklessly getting yourself _killed." _

Nellan sat down, his expression indicating he expected to be somewhat amused by the answer.

"And how did you get him to listen?"

Hargren chuckled.

"I locked him in one of the more comfortable parts of the manor dungeons, until he'd cooled down enough to stop screaming curses at the top of his lungs... Timothe took him under his wing after that, and eased him slowly into how we do things. He 'graduated' to my personal guard just over a week ago."

Nellan raised his eyebrows.

"So he knows nothing about our conspiracy yet."

A shake of a head.

"No, and he won't until he's been in my guard for at least a year. Timothe will be keeping tabs on his activities in the meantime."

Nellan mulled over this, tapping the fingers of one hand upon his folded arms before changing the topic. It really had been too long since he'd asked about the boy.

"How's Liam doing? Is he still getting the headaches?"

Hargren's smile faded, and he sighed.

"He hides them well, but I know what to look for... He was suffering one this morning. I just wish I knew what triggered them. We all make sure never to mention Emrys around him after those times he fainted, but something keeps nudging those memories regardless. Forwin has been considering prescribing him sleeping drafts, in case it's something in his sleep that's causing it, because it's almost always early morning when they happen. A dreamless sleep is a sleep without complications."

Nellan paused to think, considering possibilities and reassuring the lord.

"I wouldn't worry too much, part of it will be down to the simple fact his ability to draw magical energy is so small. Tell Forwin that I suggest he teaches Liam to meditate. He can tell him that focusing his mind will help reduce the frequency of the headaches, or at the very least take his mind off them."

"But in fact it's just to give him some discrete preliminary training for magic, so he doesn't struggle so much to keep those memories locked away."

Nellan shrugged.

"Casting spells may be an impossibility until his potential matures, but it's common practice among the druids to start teaching children who have it, young. Even those who cannot yet actually use it, can learn things to make the flow of power come more easily. Most Druid sorcerers, when they start their real training, are already well versed in the art of focusing their mind clearly upon the task. It will benefit Liam that he learns it, even should he never train as a sorcerer. It will be helpful for many things, to be able to clear his mind and not be sidetracked. It will certainly help him as your assistant."

Hargren nodded in agreement, knowing all too well that the youth was prone to occasional distractions. It was now that he set that subject aside, bringing up the one they could not discuss should Liam return before they had the chance to.

"How goes the road? Is it nearly finished?"

The druid's expression turned wry, and also satisfied.

"My sister and I have applied the camouflaging enchantments to the last section. It now connects the Crystal Clan's wintering grounds to those belonging to one of the branch groups of the Earth Clan. An irregular clouding of magic now covers almost that _entire _area along its length, including about half of Ealdor. We didn't want to mask it from scrying completely."

Hargren frowned in query.

"So no one will think that strange?"

Nellan leaned back in his chair, confident and assured.

"Anyone with that power, from before the Purge, will recognise a druid road as rare as they are. They'll think nothing of the fact it partly blanks out a random village. They'll be more interested in the road itself, even if the spells on it will stop them from ever actually seeing it since only a High Priest would have a chance of seeing through them. Our roads are a curiosity, due to the simple fact they take so much _effort_ to prepare and enchant." Wryly. "Most clans are unwilling to invest the sheer amount of time and magic they require, but then my clan has always been a bit different. We tend to move around less than the other clans, our 'wintering grounds' are actually our year-round home, so having a protected road makes sense for us when it would be pointless for our more nomadic brethren."

Hargren's fingers twitched on the table, a hint of his concern from earlier rising.

"And what of Emrys? You've given me the cold shoulder regarding him for the past three years, because the road and its protections weren't complete. You don't have excuse now."

"Which means it's just as well that _telling_ you about him is the reason I'm here." Nellan folded his arms across his chest. "I don't forget my promises, and I promised you I'd tell you some of what we've observed of him. No names or descriptions, just observations. It's safer for him that way, if his identity remains 'need to know'."

Hargren sighed, understanding.

"I agree with your reasoning. There is really no _need _for me to know his identity. Tell me what you think is appropriate, and leave it at that. It is enough for me to know your clan are guarding him, and that he is still safe."

Nellan stood up, starting to pace a little. His manner not quiet as confident but still calm.

"Cenrid has had searches for Emrys in that general area, but we were able to lure the boy and his friend out of the village during one that passed through, using a harmless illusion. They followed what they thought was a sparrow with an injured wing, but eventually 'lost it in the undergrowth' and returned home after Cenrid's men had passed straight through. They didn't stop, not for a village full of obvious poverty and hardship. They didn't think a sorcerer would be able to keep themselves hidden when the temptation to use magic to change things was there."

The lord behind the desk went quiet, thinking.

"So no one in that village knows that he has magic?"

Nellan's expression brightened.

"Only his mother and his best friend know, none of the other villagers even suspect they have a young warlock in their midst. He has great potential, Emrys, that much is already clear. He practices his powers out in the woods, in a dense grove where its' impossible for anyone without magic to sneak up on him. My clan's watchmen have monitored his efforts extensively since we confirmed his identity three years ago, but there's a more recent instance that certainly marks him as not being a _normal _warlock."

"And that is?"

Hargren's attention was completely on Nellan, the druid remembering he'd been the same way when _he_ first heard it

"...All observations confirm that he knows no spells or incantations, and that all his magic thus far is silent and instinctive, and that's what makes this remarkable. About eight months ago, we saw something new to use but which he was clearly familiar with... He has been observed using magic to _stop time_."

Hargren stared, almost speechless.

"_What?_ Is that even possible?"

Nellan nodded, confirming his prior statement.

"It is, although sorcerers who could do it, and only with an incantation I might add, number no more than four confirmed individuals in over a _thousand_ years... He and his friend were messing around, and the other boy threw a stick at him. Emrys stopped it, stepped to the side, and then it continued moving again as if nothing had happened. If he had merely grabbed it with magic, it would have fallen straight down once released. But instead it continued along its path. That is proof positive that he stopped its time, and since then we've also confirmed that he can speed time up as well as temporarily slow or freeze it. It's only in small areas, for three or four objects at most, but that does not change the fact he can do it."

Hargren slumped back into his chair, stunned almost beyond words. Their efforts to protect Emrys were now proven to me more important than ever... What would _Cenrid_ or any other malevolent individual do if they got their hands on a sorcerer with such an ability.

It just didn't bare thinking about...

~(-)~

The hallways were starting to empty, all the castle staff either manning the convoy of food heading up to the great dining hall, or attending to their masters if they happened to serve one of the guests for the feast. Only a handful wandered the passages on other tasks, and one of these was the Lady Morgana's maid.

Gwen hurried along her way, carrying a crushed-silk shawl she'd just retrieved from storage. It had occured to her that it would go _perfect_ with Morgana's dress, and so she had set out immediately to go get it... If only it hadn't meant crossing paths with _him_.

Bern followed her like a lost puppy, and unfortunately they were both heading in the same direction. Prince Arthur's chambers weren't far from Morgana's, and could be reached quite easily via a small detour past them. Gwen wasn't going to be able to get rid of him until she physically stepped through her mistress's door.

"Are you sure you don't want to meet up after the banquet? They've got a new cook at the tavern, and everyone says she's really good. We could get something to eat, and talk."

He'd been coming out with suggestions since she'd been forced to let him follow, but now it was getting rather pathetic. What part of her silence didn't tell him she wasn't interested? She'd been polite to him over and over ever since his return from Ulwin, but now as she stopped in the wide hallway where their stairs to Morgana's chambers were, she turned and faced him with the last of her patience worn thin.

"Look, Bern... You've been pursuing me for over three years, and not _once_ have I said yes to anything you've suggested. I'd hoped you'd give up on your own, but I can see this just isn't working."

He started to frown.

"But, Gwen..."

"Enough." She shook her head as she interrupted him firmly. "Don't get me wrong, you're a nice guy... Just not _my_ type of guy. I'm sure the right person for you is out there, but it's not me... Now, I really need to go help Lady Morgana get ready for the banquet. Good day."

She turned away and went up the stairs to Morgana's chambers, leaving him standing there looking like she'd kicked him. He did move eventually, but his previous enthusiasm was gone. Instead he almost slumped his way to Arthur's door, entering with his usual polite knock.

The prince glanced over, noting his servant's arrival, and frowning a little in annoyance.

"What took you so long? You're _late_, and you're _never_ late."

Bern bowed, apologetic.

"I'm sorry, My Lord. I will make sure that it never happens again."

Arthur just stared, before rolling his eyes and speaking with a note of sarcasm.

"Whatever, just get on with what I pay you for. As soon as I leave for the banquet, you're to tidy my chambers and wait for my return. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Sire."

The servant proceeded to help the prince dress for the banquet, remaining behind to clear up the plethora of random items which always seemed to find their way to places they didn't belong when the prince was bored. He then perched himself on a small stool by the door, to wait for however long it was until his master needed him again.

~(-)~

"Ah, Liam, there you are. Come sit over here."

Forwin gestured to the young man who had just entered the infirmary, sending him to sit on a stool near the hearth. He'd been surprised when Lord Hargren had given him orders to teach Liam to meditate, but when he'd been informed that the suggestion was Nellan's... well then, it had all suddenly made sense.

Right now the Old Magic was controlling the flow of power blocking Liam's memories of Emrys, but Liam himself was a natural restriction on that flow. He did not know how to quiet his mind and keep it that way, so instead of it going in a nice proverbial straight line, it was like it was being forced to detour around every little rock and pebble of thought from him. It was time Liam learnt to organise that clutter.

Liam sat on the stool, a little confused.

"He said you were going to teach me something."

The physician nodded, seating himself on the second stool placed near the first. For once his past as a druid was being put to some real use. Even druid youngsters _without_ the ability for magic learnt this, if only so their parents would have to keep them quiet while teaching those who _did_.

"I believe that a form of meditation may help stop, or at least ease your headaches... And don't you even _try_ to deny you're still getting them." He raised his eyebrows, noting the way Liam had winced. "It's always best to try methods like this first for long-term problems like yours. Using remedies for too long a time can have side effects from certain ingredients. If this doesn't work, I'll come up with something for you, but until we know I want you to put all your effort into this. Understood?"

Liam nodded. Whenever Forwin spoke in that tone, he'd learnt that only the foolish ignored him.

"Yes, Sir."

Forwin started to smile a little, knowing all too well his own reputation.

"Good, now close your eyes... It's all about _listening_. Listen to the sound of your heart beating, the breath in your lungs moving out into the world. Hear it join with the air around you, which in turn sweeps over all the lands and unites them as one. Everything and everyone is part of the world, part of nature, and part of the Old Magic that gives life to all things. Meditating is about _feeling_ that unity, that calmness, and the quiet that comes with existing in a moment of silence. Now listen for your heartbeat and your breathing, and let your mind go blank."

Liam closed his eyes, doing as he was told. But making your mind go blank is a tricky thing, especially when a certain pretty face keeps sneaking in when you're not looking.

He pushed that thought aside, concentrating on the task. If Forwin believed this would help stop those blinding headaches, then it was worth giving it his full attention.

~(-)~

**Alaia Skyhawk: Sorry for the delay on this, but I've had a busy week. I ended up stopping and starting over the past few days all the way through his chapter, instead of getting it done in one sitting :S**


	42. To Serve a Noble 'Part 3'

**Alaia Skyhawk: Dum-de-dum-de-do! Time to write Arthur being an arrogant twit again XD**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Merlin TV series etc, but I do own the star of this fic... LIAM!**

**Music: The Forged Seal (Merlin OST) The Queen's Dream (Folk Music)**

~(-)~

Chapter 42: To Serve a Noble ~Part 3~

"I bid you all welcome to this celebration of my son's eighteenth birthday. It is a joy to see him reach this milestone, and one that we could only wish Queen Ygraine could have been here to witness. But such sad thoughts do not belong at an event such as this, so I give you Prince Arthur of Camelot!"

Uther held his arm out to indicate the young man who now walked into the great dining hall, the guests applauding and cheering as he did so. As for the prince himself, Arthur just looked around as if this was nothing more than he had expected... At the very least he could have _smiled_ in gratitude for the welcome.

Morgana duly applauded along with the guests, pasting a smile onto her face. Gwen was stood by the wall behind her, as moral support as well as a certain mark of respect that she would have her here. _Arthur_ hadn't brought _his_ manservant. Poor Bern was probably sat waiting in the prince's chamber for him to come back...

The initial entrance over, Morgana could now seat herself without causing offence. She might have been expected to stand to greet Arthur, but she didn't have to while he was presented with the various gifts from nobles and distant kings that were friends of Camelot. It was hardly surprising that most of the gifts were weapons of the finest make, although at least her gift was the only belt and gloves. It truly _said_ something about a man when he should take such obvious pleasure in receiving pieces of metal forced in order to maim others, but then Arthur was commander of the Knights of Camelot now, and in that position he really needed to be using the best that could be made. He was certainly happy when the set of armour and chainmail was brought in on a stand to show it off, although at least that part got her to smile honestly. Gwen's father had done a wonder job making it, he really deserved to get more attention than he did, overshadowed by the royal sword-smith as he was.

It was as the gift-giving was drawing to a close that she realised nothing had been sent by Lord Hargren, and almost as if that thought had been the cue, a representative of that lord stood up from his table and came forward. He wasn't a one she'd seen before, and held a certain air of dignity which generated instant respect. He didn't utter so must as a word until he reached the High Table, and yet Uther and his son stopped talking before he'd even come to a stop.

The man bowed respectfully, before speaking with a tone to match his dignified manner.

"It is an honour to be here, Sire. I bring words of best wishes from Lord Hargren, along with a gift for you most esteemed son."

Uther started to smile, looking pleased.

"I'm guessing your lack of obvious item to present means it was too large to bring into the hall."

The representative tilted his head, a glint of amusement in his eyes even if he didn't smile in return.

"That it was, Sire." He turned to Arthur, opening up a small message scroll he carried and reading it to the prince. "'To the Prince of Camelot, I, Lord Hargren of Ulwin, hereby gift the first of the horses bred and trained by my new methods. May it serve him well, and carry him safely wherever he may travel'. In order to preserve the surprise, the convoy with the horse set off a day behind me. It will arrive tomorrow morning for your inspection."

Arthur for once actually looked stunned. The horses bred by Lord Hargren were already renowned, and now he'd not only _improved_ the method of their training but was giving him the first of them prepared that way? Morgana also widened her eyes in surprise. She too knew of the implied value of such a horse, the one she owned was of lesser stock from the privately bred herd within the manor walls, and that one had cost enough to buy a full set of basic armour for twenty soldiers. The one being given to Arthur was probably worth as much as all of his other birthday gifts combined.

All right, so she had to admit it, she was now jealous. If there was one thing she liked about being in Camelot, it was that for the most part she could go out riding whenever she wanted. Uther spoiled her in that respect, buying her a series of fine horses over the years she'd been here. But with it only being a few months since he purchased her most recent horse from Ulwin, it was unlikely she could ask him for one to match Arthur's until it was _her_ eighteenth birthday.

Unless she got lucky and Lord Hargren sent her one as well...

With a sigh Morgana watched as the evening progressed, the meal ending and the guests starting to mingle and chat to one another. Arthur stood with some of his friends from among the knights, and by his gestures was obviously bragging about everything he'd been given. Which meant the rest of the evening was as tedious as she was expecting. What she would do to be able to just get up and leave without causing offence?

Stood with some of the other noblewomen, pretending to be interested in their idle chatter, Morgana kept glancing at her maid until Gwen gave the signal that she'd seen a sufficient number of the other guests leaving that it would be fine for her to do so. When she saw it she quickly pleaded fatigue to the ladies she'd been talking to, and gracefully left the hall, murmuring to her maid once they were clear.

"Thank you for keeping watch. Without you, it could have been another half an _hour_ before I could be sure I could leave."

Gwen smiled at the thanks.

"It's nothing, My Lady. I don't see either why people should make a fuss about when guests leave, just because it might cause offence."

"Agreed. But that's the thing about many nobles, which means those of us with more sense just have to follow along with it." Morgana shook her head. "Well, I for one am looking forward to preparing for bed and spending some quiet time before going to sleep. You can go home as soon as you've helped me change out of this dress."

Gwen's smile became slightly amused, knowing as she did just how awkward some of the fancier dressed could be to get out of. There were times when, as pretty as she looked in such clothing, Gwen didn't envy Morgana one bit.

~(-)~

He'd sat there on the edge of his bed, lit by the pale light of his candle, letting thoughts and worries drift away into silence. As odd as it felt to be doing this before bed, he'd done it all the same, and found himself falling into slumber and dreams far quicker than usual. Most of the dreams had been about his family, and the gang, and one odd part where he'd been talking to Kalem but unable to hear what was said. But instead of that part ending in him being woken up with a headache, instead it had passed by and been replaced by something else, until the light of dawn entering through his room's window woke him up.

Liam turned his head to look at that light, feeling better rested than he could remember in a long time. Only the faintest ache could be felt between his eyes, and that quickly faded when he closed his eyes and listened for the inner silence as Forwin had taught him. When he opened them again he sat up, starting to smile. It really worked, the meditation idea of Forwin's really worked!

Clambering out of bed, he began to get dressed with enthusiasm. Things were going to get better, he was sure.

When he left his room it was with a slight spring in his step, his cheerful smile causing a few of his fellow servants he passed to turn their heads in surprise.

Fyren heard Liam's door open, peeking out of his own room to see the youth had left the room adjacent to his and was heading cheerfully down the hall. The one glimpse of his face that he saw, when he turned the corner at the passage end, showed him looking well rested and high spirited... And yet last night the older servant had heard Liam muttering in his sleep as he always did on nights before his headaches struck.

He closed his door, returning to getting dressed. He had to admit that he'd never stopped worrying about Liam since the day Nellan had made him make and oath to the Old Magic. He'd researched that type of vow since then, and learnt that if a person's ability to draw magic is weaker than what maintaining the act of the oath required, it could make that person ill. Liam had shown some of the classic signs of that kind of suffering, ever since a day a month after making the oath. The Once and Future King had been mentioned in a conversation with Lord Hargren, and Liam had immediately recognised the name and that it related to a prophecy...

Fyren frowned, remembering. Moments after that, Liam had gone as white as a sheet and passed out, falling unconscious out of his seat. When he'd woken up a few minutes later he'd moaned deliriously about a terrible pain in his head, and they'd been forced to take him to the infirmary so Forwin could treat him. He'd spent the rest of the day sleeping it off, but that had been the start of the regular headaches.

It was nearly a year later, once again in Hargren's study, when during a conversation the name Emrys came up. Liam had shown no recognition nor interest, but had still slumped unconscious once again. Mercifully, that time he didn't wake up for several hours, and then only with a mild ache in his head, but it had taught something to everyone else at the heart the conspiracy. The prophecy, Emrys, and the Once and Future King all became taboo subjects around Liam, everyone warned not to so much as whisper about them.

Fyren's grey eyes held the shadows of his concern, his faint frown seeming strange on the face of a man who usually smiled. He'd seen too many people suffer in his life, to be happy about seeing a friend in pain. Liam may avoid seeing any of them as friends, out of fear of being hurt again, but that did not mean none of them saw him as such. He'd avoided telling Hargren that Liam's dreams were the cause of his headaches, instead only suggesting it in order to respect Liam's privacy. He didn't want Liam to know that he sometimes cried out his relieved pains when he saw past tragedies in his sleep.

Tying the laces of his second boot, Fyren stood up and pasted his usual façade of a bland expression on his face. Hiding his true intelligence for so long had given him much practice over all. Not even Nellan could tell when he was lying or hiding feelings, and that kept things simple. And simple was the way he liked to keep things.

~(-)~

The knock on the door preceded its immediate opening, Forwin glancing over his shoulder to see Fyren come into Hargren's study. The servant was as unreadable as he always was, outwardly calm and composed leaving no hint of his inner thoughts. But even so he didn't doubt he'd heart about Liam's 'lesson' yesterday, and its purpose.

The two of them stared at each other for a moment, Hargren eyeing them both before speaking. Fyren might think himself clever in concealing his emotions, but he didn't realise that the Lord of Ulwin knew the real him well enough to be able to read him. He'd been worried about Liam for some time, and now was a chance to quench that fear for his well being.

"Forwin has just informed me that Liam stopped by this morning to tell him that the meditation helped. He woke with a headache, but far milder than usual, and the remaining pain faded as soon as he meditated again."

Fyren didn't move, but inwardly he _was_ feeling a bit more optimistic. He still wanted further confirmation though.

"So he'll be fine? This isn't going to keep making him ill?"

Forwin shook his head.

"No, it won't. So long as he keeps to the new routine and meditates each night, the Old Magic will have no trouble using his limited ability to keep his memories of Emrys sealed. That's not to say we can start discussing Emrys around him again. To do so would almost certainly cause the same blackouts that he's suffered previously."

This time the servant did allow a small amount of reaction to show. He sighed in relief, smiling just a little.

"That's good to know. We can keep working around him easily enough, and wait for the day the Old Magic releases him from that oath. Will we be able to tell when?"

"Nellan might be able to, but it's not likely." Forwin started to frown, before changing the subject and turning to Lord Hargren. "I must get back to the infirmary. One of the soldiers has an abscess that needs lancing, and I told him I'd treat it as soon as I'd been to speak to you. He's been waiting for a while now."

Hargren nodded.

"Of course. We'll let you get back to your work."

Forwin left the room, closing the door behind him, and once he was gone, Fyren faced the lord.

"I'd ask more about Liam, but I know there's no point so I'll change the subject." He came closer, folding his arms across his chest and tilting his head. "Are you going to tell me what you sent our dear Prince Arthur for his birthday? I'd have gone asking around, except that there was no one gossiping about it which meant only a few people know. A few being you and whoever prepared it, and those who took it to Camelot."

Hargren started to smile, looking rather satisfied with himself.

"I sent him the first of the horses to be trained fully by my _old_ methods from before the Purge. The chief trainer in the manor's breeding facility is the son of the previous. His father was a well known sorcerer, and unfortunately was arrested by Uther's men while delivering a batch of horses to the market in Camelot. He was executed before I could find a way to intervene."

Fyren raised his eyebrows.

"So he used magic to train them?"

"Of a sort, yes." Hargren settled back into his chair, hands in his lap. "His son knew the methods, but lacked the training in magic to use them. Instead he created a new method to try and replace his fathers, and succeeded to an admirable degree, but that did not change the fact that he could not train them not to startle in the face of magical attacks. So when I got the opportunity, I asked Nellan if his clan could spare someone to give Yale the basic tutelage he needed, and as soon as he had it he began training the next generation of horses using his father's ways."

The servant's eyebrows were still raised.

"And Arthur gets the first horse from that back to complete the training. For once I'm envious of him."

Hargren smiled, amused at his servant's reaction.

"And so you should be. Most horses will panic in the face of magical attacks, but that mount has been trained to counter that. Nellan has, at my request, also put some protective charms into the lining of the saddle I had made. Just as a precaution for Arthur's safety until the time of the prophecy arrives, and it becomes Emrys' duty to protect him."

"You're taking no chances with this, are you."

Hargren eyed Fyren, his amusement fading.

"No, we're not. So long as we keep both Arthur and Emrys oblivious to our guarding of them, then the prophecy will proceed unchanged by our actions. All we're doing is making sure no one interferes with them before it can start."

There was a knock on the door, Liam entering as he returned from delivering messages. Fyren directed a grin at him, changing the topic without a moment's hesitation.

"I just heard that new thing Forwin has you doing works."

Liam regarded him for a moment, before nodding.

"Yeah, it works." He frowned. "Shouldn't you be tidying Lord Hargren's chambers by now?"

The lord at the hid a smile, although his humour at seeing this showed in his eyes.

"He's right, Fyren. Go on, back to what I pay you for."

"Yes, Sir."

Fyren headed out the door as Liam settled at the side table to work on his other administrative tasks, thinking to himself about their goals and efforts. This is what it meant to serve a noble like Hargren, a job which by no means fit the usual definition of 'servant'.

~(-)~

**Alaia Skyhawk: There we go, I'm off to bed now lol. Nearly 2am XD**


	43. The Price of Secrecy 'Part 1'

**Alaia Skyhawk: GAH! My update schedule has been totally screwed the past couple of weeks. I should have had THIS episode done by now, and yet I'm only just starting it :S**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Merlin TV series etc, but I do own the star of this fic... LIAM!**

**Music: The Mark of the Raven (Merlin OST) Flying through the Country (Folk Music)**

~(-)~

Chapter 43: The Price of Secrecy ~Part 1~

The robed figure walked along the earthen trail, a narrower affair than the road in the forest of Ascetir. They hadn't needed for this one to be able to manage carts, since it was just an excuse to cloud most of this area from scrying, but that didn't change the fact that it was extremely convenient to be able to stroll through bandit and patrol infested lands and no one be able to see you.

Nellan smiled to himself as he walked, idly inspecting the road's magical camouflage as he went. It had been damned hard work to set up even this narrow trail for the distance involved, and in only two years too. In the year and a half since then, he and his sister had regularly patrolled it to make sure the hasty work hadn't weakened the enchantments, but they were still firm and strong. The road in the Forest of Ascetir had taken the same amount of time and yet was barely a fifth of the length, and had been planned and set up by their father prior to his death. He'd strayed too far from safety, and gotten caught by Uther's men, and he'd paid the price of that king's blind hatred.

He sighed, shaking his head to clear the thought. Druids did not hate, were not meant to hate. Hatred only blinded you, and deprived you of true wisdom. His father's death had been due to an error of judgement. He had gone into a situation he knew better than to risk, and that was that. He would not want his children to lament his death, but rather would want them to learn from it.

Occasional leaves crunched underfoot, those that managed to stray onto the trail and not be eased side by the spells. The enchantments did not disguise sound, merely muffle it, so as not to create a strange area of silence should anyone unwittingly pass over the trail. While no one would be able to see him, they could still hear him if he were careless, and with that in mind he began to cast his eyes about for signs of others being nearby.

The forest was silent but for the sound of wind and birds, every now and then a rustle revealing the movement of an animal in the undergrowth. At one point he stopped and watched a small herd of deer grazing in a clearing, the timid creatures unaware of his presence due to his being on the road. It might have been a hunter's dream, but the road had rules. Those who deliberately used it to kill, lost the right to use it, even if the killing was only that of an animal. And why would he want to kill them? Just standing here watching something people rarely got to see was such a privilege. A window into a world where people did not belong.

Nellan forced himself to resume his walk, sighing at the knowledge he did not have time to waste on watching the local wildlife. He kept going, picking up his pace until he came to the stone that marked the point where the road passed closest to Ealdor. He touched the top of the stone and murmured a few words in the Old Tongue, before standing and waiting. It did not take long for one of his clan's two watchers to come at his call, that man greeting him and leading him off the road in the pre-dawn light.

He was here to take another look at Emrys, and assess his progress with his magic. Now they would just have to wait for the young warlock to leave the village and go practice.

~(-)~

Hands quickly broke seals and unfolded the various sheets of paper and parchment, eyes quickly reading the top lines and putting each message into the correct pile.

Liam hurried through the task, eager to be away. One day a week he got the whole morning off, providing he did his usual round to collect the reports and sort them before Hargren arrived at his study. He would have to be back at midday, but he didn't mind. The morning would be long enough for where he would be going, especially seeing as he was up and about even earlier than usual.

Job done, he left the study and closed the door behind him, checking as he did so the small pouch of coins he had tucked inside his shirt. Having been a pickpocket himself, he knew the tricks. Money kept that far inside clothing was safe unless you were incredibly careless.

Walking through the hallways, he started to smile to himself. Plucking a note from his pocket, that had been left for him with the courier clerk last night, his smile widened further. He may only have the morning to spare for this, but it was going to be a good one.

With that he exited the large building and headed for the gate through the manor wall, taking the shortest route possible through the dawn to Ulwin's market.

~(-)~

"Don't lay in bed too long... I still need you to weed the outer field, Merlin. You're sixteen, a young man in your own right, and people expect you to pull your weight."

The door of the cottage creaked closed, the youth to whom Hunith had directed her words, pulling his blanket up over his head. He didn't want to get up, weeding the fields was literally a pain in the neck _and_ back, and knees when you got down to it. Instead of getting up right away, he lay there in his bed that really was far too small for him now. His feet and lower legs trailed off the bottom end, actually touching the floor, but it didn't change the fact that it kept the rest of him off of it. Money was tight, and so was the local carpenter's time. When this bed was past it, he wouldn't be getting another one unless he built it himself.

Sighing, he yanked the blanket back down and away from his face, that movement triggering the spontaneous collapse of the supports at the bottom end of the bed. With a groan he then got up, taking a step back from it to take a long look. All right, so his bed was _already_ past it, but it was also true that he was _hopeless_ at carpentry.

Merlin looked at his dilapidated bed and grimaced, noting the patchwork of 'repairs' he'd subjected it to since the first time it had broken when he was thirteen. He needed a new one, they couldn't pay for one, which meant he was going to have to go out, cut and strip enough branches to make a platform, and see if he could get a couple of decent sized pieces of log to stick under each end. Here was to hoping he could get it done in a reasonable amount of time, leaving enough left to do his chores and still get the chance to practice magic while he was out of the village.

That thought in mind, he looked at his mother's bed, which was a proper bed like his was before his patch jobs. He was going to miss having a truly _comfortable _surface to sleep on, branches just wouldn't be the same as the leather woven inside the frame of his old one... But leather cost _money_.

He grabbed a chunk of stale bread to chew on while he untied the rope holding the piece of furniture together, letting the thing fall apart, before getting the axe and hatchet from their hooks on the wall and going outside. Hunith looked up from where she stood over the laundry tub cleaning their few items of spare clothing, and he held up the hatchet in one hand and pointed at the forest with the axe in the other.

"My bed has had it, so I'm going to get some stuff to make a new one. I'll make sure to be back with time to weed the field."

She gave him a smile of sympathy, before delivering a firm but gentle warning.

"Make sure that you do... To be honest I expected you would make a new one long before now, but then you've always been stubborn. I was wondering when you'd get tired of your old one collapsing every morning."

Merlin let out an exaggerated sigh, more than a little bemused.

"All right, I'm stubborn, I admit it. I'm going to go get stuff for my new bed now."

He started to walk away, Hunith calling after him.

"If you're not home by noon, I'll get Arnor to send his dog to find you again. So don't be late."

Merlin flinched, pausing for a moment before resuming his trek. The last time that had happened he'd spent an _hour_ stuck up a tree while said dog barked and snarled up at him and Arnor stood there laughing... No, he did _not _want a repeat of that.

~(-)~

The market was quiet, stalls still being set up and only a handful of shoppers walking about. His wave towards the pair behind one of the vegetable stands caught their attention, the man of the pair giving his daughter a nudge and pointing at the approaching Liam.

She broke out into a wide smile when she saw him, blue eyes bright beneath her neatly bound brown hair. She grabbed a basket she had behind the stall, hurrying into the open with a parting call.

"I'll be back at noon, Dad."

Liam accepted the hug she gave when she reached him, looking only mildly embarrassed while her father looked on. When she let go he smiled at her, before addressing the man confidently albeit with a slight hesitation.

"I'll make sure Hana is back before then. Lord Hargren expects me to be at my duties again after he's had his midday meal."

Hana's father nodded, tapping his fingers on the stall top.

"As would be expected of the Lord of Ulwin's assistant. Keeping good track of time is part of your job." The fingers tapped again, and he cleared his throat. "The usual..."

Hana turned to her father, annoyed as Liam reached inside his shirt to pull out the coppers to pay for what was in the basket.

"Father..."

Liam glanced at her.

"Everyone has to pay their bills, Hana, and paying for our picnics means that I'm getting to treat you. Am I not allowed to do that?"

She looked between the pair of them, shaking her head as her father accepted the coins.

"Both of you are hopeless. Come on, Liam. I want to go down to the river this time!"

She took hold of his arm and dragged him away, Liam not exactly resisting while her father looked on in amusement. Their route took them out through the western gate, along the well-worn road towards the river. Unbeknownst though was that this particular day of the week marked an earlier-than-normal rise for another of the manor residents, said young man watching them go from where he was walking the perimeter of the town walls to inspect them.

Tarven watched them as he had every week since Liam had first plucked up the courage to start courting her, a small frown creasing his features. A flicker of concern gave way to a deeper, thoughtful regard, before he turned and resumed his inspection of the wall. It was perfectly fine for Liam to be in a relationship, but only if he was being careful... There was too much at risk if he became careless.

The young lord sighed and kept going, setting it aside for now but resolving to do some checks. More than his father's reputation would be at stake if Liam did something stupid while blinded by love.

~(-)~

**Alaia Skyhawk: Hehehe, that bit with Merlin and his bed was scraped off the wall. It was such a random thought as I was writing that I just had to put it in XD**


	44. The Price of Secrecy 'Part 2'

**Alaia Skyhawk: Here's the next bit :)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Merlin TV series etc, but I do own the star of this fic... LIAM!**

**Music: The Forged Seal, The Mark of the Raven (Merlin OST) **

~(-)~

Chapter 44: The Price of Secrecy ~Part 2~

If there was ever one route into the forest he knew, and knew well, it was this one. Everyone in the village trekked this path at one time or another, after the leaves had fallen but before spring had returned, and all for the same reason. It led to the extensive grove of trees that had all been prepared so they would produce large numbers of long straight branches ideal for firewood, and they'd do it year after year so long as you kept cutting. And it was all done by one very simple method, coppicing.

If you cut the top out of a mature tree, it keeps trying to grow upwards, and to do that it sends out dozens of branches from just below the cut. These could be harvested year after year depending on the type of tree, and for a small and poor village this was a necessity.

Merlin reached the grove, looking up at the halos of stems reaching for the sky from the top of each stout and stocky tree. Ealdor had been using this grove since the village was established, and it showed on the trees that had been used the longest since the last time they were stooled. Their tops were gnarled masses of old cut stumps, all forming a great bulge from which all the current 'poles' sprouted. Some of those trees would probably have those cut off this winter, leaving a nice clean top for next year's poles.

He paused, looking around at the trees that would be stooled this year. A couple of them had been harvested, the wood probably used to repair the fence that was damaged the other week. One of them had just about the right number of poles left on it to make the platform of his new bed, and leaving the axe on the ground he stepped up the couple of deliberately placed footholds to reach them where they sat just ten feet above the forest floor. Two steps upwards and he could reach up and cut them, some of the longest used trees had their crown of branches at shoulder height from repeated stooling.

Lengths of wood gathered, Merlin stood one of them on end and measured his own height against it, cutting it so it was a few inches taller than he was. He then proceeded to cut the rest to the same length, leaving them in one stack while the offcuts he dumped where someone coming for firewood would see them. Now was the next problem.

He frowned a little, looking at his pile of wood staves. He knew he could tie them together into a flat section, but making legs and a cross-braced frame was something beyond his confidence. If he wanted to make sure this bed didn't collapse like his old one, then bits of log under each end would be far easier even if it meant the bed was heavier to carry back to the village.

Merlin picked up the axe, eyeing the surrounding trees and spotting one whose trunk was about five inches across. It was a young sycamore tree, nice and straight, but also mature enough to be perfect for coppicing. Decision made, he picked up the axe and walked over to it, deciding that to make it easier on himself he'd just take the top of it out at chest height instead of the village usual of ten feet up to make them easier to get in among.

The first swing of the axe the blade just bounced off the trunk, causing him to sigh at his own lack of physical strength. A quick glance down the long, straight track to the village confirmed no one was coming along it, and safe in that knowledge he stared at the axe and narrowed his eyes in concentration.

Blue irises turned gold, as the axe lifted itself from his grip and he levelled it at the truck. A twitch of his eyebrows heralded his mental command for the axe to swing, and in the first hit it bit far deeper into the wood than he'd ever hope to manage the normal way. He kept swinging the axe using magic, taking a wedge out of the tree, but he'd failed to check one thing...

Always make sure to check which way the top of the tree is leaning before you start to cut it off...

There was a groan of protesting and splintering wood, the top part of the canting towards him. Merlin gaped for an instant, before flinging himself to the side, but the branches attached to the section seemed to snag on something, causing it to twist and finish its fall off at an angle to where he'd been stood.

He sat there for several moments, mind blank but for the thought that he was really lucky. He wouldn't be making that mistake again.

Merlin got to his feet, retrieving the axe and heading to the piece of tree. He was going to have to hack all the branches off it before he could get the log sections he needed.

A short distance away, hidden behind spells to make them blend into the forest around them, Nellan and watchman chuckled. Emrys, or rather Merlin, had progressed a great deal in the past four years of their observations. At the age of twelve, while he was able to use magic, the strength and reliability of it had been sporadic. As he'd grown, however, his skill with this instinctual sorcery of his had grown by leaps and bounds. He moved objects now with almost absent ease, at least things below a certain size, and his ability to manipulate the flow of time for objects and people had also improved tremendously even if it remained the most tiring of his skills. He still needed to work on his confidence though, because Nellan _knew_ Merlin was capable of turning aside that falling tree, as the druid had discretely done for him in the end, but the warlock had frozen up before jumping out of the way instead.

He sighed quietly, the sound as quiet as the whisper that followed it.

"When it comes time to protect the Once and Future King, he can't afford to lock up in fear like that. Hesitation could well mean failure at the crucial moment."

The watchman beside him nodded, but at the same time pointed something out.

"He only does that when protecting himself. His friend, Will, has hand a number of close calls, but every time Merlin acts to prevent harm to him and displays a speed of reflex that defies normal magical conventions. It's almost like his subconscious mind is pre-set to defend others even at the cost of himself, and as such when something threatens him directly he tends to take much longer to realise and react to it."

"Interesting." Nellan's expression was thoughtful, his eyes distant. "If that's the case, then there will have to come a time when he and the Once and Future King must work to defend each other. If Arthur, if he is the one, does not protect Merlin at the times he must, then Merlin's own lack of instinct for self preservation could result in his death and the failure of the prophecy. We're going to have to keep a definite close eye on him during the early stages of it. If he's blind to threats to himself, he's going to get himself killed rather quickly."

A flicker of movement caught their eye, the watchman starting to smile in amusement when he saw who it was. It was Merlin's friend, William, and the fellow sixteen-year-old was sneaking up on the warlock.

He reached down to pick up one of the offcuts of wood, taking another slow step forward. But unseen by him Merlin's expression had become slightly annoyed, as he pretended not to have noticed him and kept tying the staves and logs together. All right, so maybe he wasn't _completely_ oblivious to things sneaking up on him.

Will paused, taking aim and throwing the stick at his friend, but before it could reach its target, Merlin stood up and turned to show eyes glowing gold, the stick's progress halting before he grabbed it from the air.

"What is it with you and throwing sticks at me?"

Will shrugged, grinning.

"I dunno, there are just a lot of convenient sticks out here."

Merlin started to grin as well, brandishing the off-cut like a sword. Will grabbed another, an impromptu 'duel' starting up between them. It was a bit of a one-sided fight though, seeing as Merlin almost immediately used the ability he seemed only to be able to apply to himself. He increased his flow of time, likely making everything around him seem to move slower, and he certainly moved and reacted quicker as a result.

His stick slipped effortlessly through Will's guard, delivering pokes to the ribs while the warlock was also literally running circles around him. But with all powerful skills there comes a downside, and Merlin's was that manipulating time in this way tended to drain his present stamina quite quickly. As soon as he ran out of energy and was forced to slow down, William grabbed him in a headlock and proceeded to scrub his knuckles through his friend's hair.

Merlin let out a yelp at that, one last strained effort of magic breaking him free of Will's grip. The two of them looked at each other, both of them out of breath, before both also burst out laughing.

Merlin went back over to his project, waving for Will to join him.

"If you have time to throw stuff at me, you have time to help me carry this back home. My bed collapsed this morning, so I've made a new one."

Will grinned, taking one end of the crude piece of furniture while Merlin lifted the other.

"So how many times is that now?"

Merlin just glared at him indignantly, before shaking his head and leading the way. Nellan and the watchmen let them go, they'd both seen enough for today.

Nellan's expression was still thoughtful, considering this his first time witnessing Merlin manipulating his own time.

"I wonder if speeding his time up like that will affect him."

The watchman glanced at him, unperturbed.

"If it _did_ affect his age, then the amount he's been seen using it he should look nearly eighteen by now, not sixteen as he obviously is. When he first discovered he could do it, he practised with it every spare moment he had for over a month."

Nellan raised his eyebrows, turning his regard to the retreating backs of Merlin and Will.

"So he's immune to any beneficial or detrimental effects of changing his own flow of time. I suppose that's a good thing, or what's to say he might not find a way to make himself immortal."

The watchman nodded, a bit unnerved at the thought.

"Indeed. That would make his potential power even more frightening than it already is."

The two of them turned and walked away into the woods, heading for the camp the two watchmen used, where they could discuss today's observations in more detail without having to worry about being discovered or overhead. There were many questions that Nellan still wanted to ask.

~(-)~

He could have just been strolling through the town, spending time to idly assess the mood of the populace without his armour and chainmail drawing attention and making people wary of acting normally.

Tarven paused, talking to an occasional patrol of the town guard, but otherwise seeming not to be going anywhere in particular. Sometimes he would turn off a street as if changing direction, but if someone were to really watch they would see him re-emerge back onto the same street a little further down it.

To anyone experienced in the tactic, it would be clear he was following someone.

Tarven looked a short distance ahead, to the young woman that was the object of his attention. He wouldn't normally have followed someone like this, but he couldn't get any of the men he commanded involved in this. Most of them weren't privy to the things he was, and would report them to Uther if they knew, which meant that if he didn't want to draw attention to this, he had to do it off the books. Right now he was acting as Tarven, the son of Lord Hargren, and not as Commander of the Ulwin Garrison.

Hana was oblivious to his presence, on her way home from the market as she was. He'd followed her this time yesterday as well, to assess the route she took, and this time he knew where the opportunity would arise for him to approach her without anyone seeing.

Sure enough she turned into the alleyway that provided a short-cut between her home street and the main thoroughfare. This area of town was riddled with twisting back paths, the main streets equally confusing, but that meant that for a short while she'd be out of sight of either end of the meandering back-street.

He picked up his pace to catch up with her, timing his arrival behind her for the moment the alley curved. She didn't hear him coming, but she felt it when his hand landed on her shoulder. She spun round, about to shriek in fright but stopping to gasp when she recognised who was behind her.

She stared at him with wide eyes, clearly frightened and worrying what this was about, before steadying herself and speaking in hesitant but still respectful greeting.

"Lord Tarven..."

The young lord remained silent, before solemn words left his lips.

"You and I need to have a little talk..."

~(-)~

**Alaia Skyhawk: The thing with the trees is an actual method of woodland management, to produce a supply of firewood or wood for crafts etc without having to replant them. Although in the actual method the trees tended to be cut off close to the ground (But will sprout the same way when cut higher up), and done over a typical cycle of 5-20 years, although Oak coppicing is a 50 year cycle :)**

**Oh, and I'll lessen the cliffy a bit. No Tarven isn't going to break the relationship up, but things won't be sunshine and cookies for Liam and Hana either. All will be fully explained next chapter.**


	45. The Price of Secrecy 'Part 3'

**Alaia Skyhawk: **

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Merlin TV series etc, but I do own the star of this fic... LIAM!**

**Music: The Mark of the Raven (Merlin OST)**

~(-)~

Chapter 45: The Price of Secrecy ~Part 3~

Hana's eyes remained widened in surprise, but her expression now became both fearful and wary. It wasn't surprising really, since this couldn't be a normal 'talk'. If it were, then why not just summon her to the manor? Instead he had approached her out of sight and dressed as a civilian.

She hesitated a moment longer, swallowing nervously before speaking.

"For what reason would you need to speak to me, My Lord? If I have unknowingly committed some wrong, then I sincerely apologise."

Tarven remained silent, regarding her before letting out the smallest of sighs.

"I wish to ask what thought you have given to your acceptance of Liam's courtship. This is now jest, and so I ask you to answer seriously. Have you thought about the implications to him, yourself, and Ulwin by being in that relationship?"

For a moment she looked indignant, he had come to ask her about her private life? But his solemn expression prevented any outburst. He considered this to be no joke, and that frightened her.

She thought for a moment, shaking her head a little as she replied.

"I don't see what there could be to think about? He's a servant, I work in the market, we're both commoners. Why would there be something to think about? Who would _care _about our relationship?"

"...Anyone wanting to get at my father, to harm Ulwin or, through him, Camelot." Her eyes widened again, the hint of fear returning as he continued in quietest murmur. "King Cenrid hates Camelot, as evidenced by the numerous raids he has sent to harass us here in Ulwin's lands. You know as well as I do, that he holds no regards for anyone within this kingdom, and he would not hesitate to take advantage of _any_ weakness that comes to light."

Hana had taken a step back, but now her expression hardened into a frown.

"Are you trying to tell me that you want me to stop seeing Liam?"

Tarven looked surprised, eyebrows rising a little before settling back to their former position.

"Not at all. Even as Commander of the garrison, I have no right to interfere unless there is any real and _current_ danger to my father and Ulwin." He folded his arms, his eyes never leaving hers. "Liam is very close to my father, and it cannot be denied that he is a potential way for those who wish Ulwin harm to get at him. Cenrid would not hesitate to use such a method, and while I am not accusing you of such, I warn you that there will be some who view you with suspicion. Liam is privy to many things at the heart of Ulwin, and is beyond doubt as being trustworthy, but at the same time so long as he courts you he too will be watched. The threat Cenrid poses is too great to ignore, and all points of weakness will be guarded against him. As commander of the Ulwin Garrison, I will be keeping an eye on you both... For your own good."

He turned to walk the way he'd come, Hana calling out after him.

"And what is that supposed to mean?" He, stopped turning to look back at her, and she realised how disrespectful she'd sounded. "I-I'm sorry, My Lord."

For the briefest moment his expression softened. He knew his reputation for being cold towards commoners.

"I would ask that you never repeat this to Liam, for if you do I _will_ drive you out of Ulwin." He turned his back on her, letting out a small snort. "As hard as it might be to believe, the past four years he has lived in the manor, apart from his working as a servant, Liam has been treated by my parents as being almost an adoptive son... And after learning of all he's been though, and seeing him striving to make the most of his life regardless of it, I'd be a fool not to have at least _some_ respect for him."

"You respect him?"

Hana was staring in disbelief, and although with his back to her he couldn't see it, Tarven could hear it in her voice.

"He is a member of my father's household, trusted to the highest degree, and he's earned it. And at the same time he's earned the right to be protected from those who would seek to use him against his home. All I ask now is that you remember to remain on your guard, because if you really care for him and want to see him safe, then you will have to protect him as well... From those who might try to use _you _against _him_." He resumed walking away, repeating his prior warning. "If you so much as _breathe _a word as to my real opinion of him, I will make good on my threat."

He disappeared around the corner, Hara still staring after him. Once he was gone, as if broken from a trance, she too turned and fled. Shaken to the core, not by Tarven's threat, but by the dread realisation that he was right. She was a way for someone to get at Liam, someone seeking to use him to harm Lord Hargren, Ulwin, and Camelot.

~(-)~

It was odd, he knew it was odd, and at the same time he wished the note were for anyone but Liam.

Fyren, his usual feigned half-witted expression pasted in place, mulled over the note he'd been handed by the courier clerk. He knew about Liam courting Hana, _everyone _within Hargren's inner circle knew about it, and he also knew that she normally left her notes on one set day a week and first thing in the morning. Today was not that day, and nor was it by any stretch of the imagination, morning. In fact it was nearing the end of the day, which made it even more strange. What was the note about?

He dropped his dumb expression as soon as he passed into the area protected by Hargren's personal guard, heading for the lord's study where he knew Liam would be. But with any luck, Hargren himself wouldn't be there, because he had a sinking feeling that Liam was going to want to go see Hana the moment he read her note.

Fyren inwardly breathed a sigh of relief when it turned out Hargren wasn't there, entering the study and offering the note to the rather surprised Liam sat at the side table.

"The courier clerk gave it to me, and told me to give it to you using words you'd expect to use with a five-year-old. It's from Hana, apparently."

Liam accepted it, giving Fyren a glance before starting to unfold it.

"You're the one who insists on making everyone think you're stupid, so it's your own fault you get treated like that."

He shook his head and started to read the note, before his expression froze and his entire body went stiff. He then dropped it and stormed out of the study, leaving Fyren gaping after him.

He blinked, stunned by the uncharacteristic fury in Liam's expression.

"What was that about?" His eyes drifted to the dropped note, and giving into curiosity he picked it up and read it... And immediately darted out of the room to go after Liam. "Liam! Get back here you idiot! Don't do anything stupid!"

The sixteen-year-old already had a head start, and was making a beeline for the private quarters of none other than the _dear_ Lord Tarven. When he heard Fyren's shout he broke into a run, reaching and slamming through the door into Tarven's chambers before his fellow servant could stop him.

Tarven was there, changing clothing in preparation for his regular meal with his father tonight. He looked completely unperturbed by Liam's entrance, instead blandly stating the obvious.

"So Hana's told you about our little chat."

Liam advanced several steps into the room, Fyren stopping at the door cringing when he realised he was too late.

"_Why did you say that to Hana? _You have _no_ right to interfere in my personal life!"

Tarven regarded him flatly, if not a little cold as well.

"We both know the things at stake here, and all I did was point out what others both here and in Camelot might think. _I_ know you have sense enough to handle this, or at least I did before you stormed in here, but that doesn't change the fact that enemies of Camelot might try to use you both to get at my father."

Liam hesitated, the firm and reasonable reply knocking the winds of fury out of his sails.

"But that still..."

"I spoke to her to warn her of that danger, something that is the best thing for both of you." Tarven's eyes narrowed. "If she cannot handle being under that sort of scrutiny, then your relationship was _doomed _before it started and through no fault of mine. You are a trusted assistant to my father, _trained_ to keep a cool head. Stop acting like you're the first person this has ever happened to and deal with it."

Liam backed down, hating it but knowing that Tarven was right, but even so for once his anger overode his fear of Tarven as he said one last and probably stupid thing.

"If you _ever_ speak to her again when I'm not there, I'll find some way to make you regret it."

He turned to storm out past Fyren, but stopped in his tracks at Tarven's parting shot.

"And I'll make sure you get plenty of opportunities to regret it if you do. Do not forget that _I_ am Hargren's son, and my word will _always_ be put before yours."

Liam flinched, his bravado fading and uneasiness seeping in. The realisation that Tarven will always have power over him, striking a large blow to his confidence, he left the room before breaking into a run and disappearing down the hall outside.

Fyren watched him go, before glancing back into the room. His expression spoke of the disgust that didn't show in his voice, as he spoke to the young lord.

"Was that really necessary_?_"

Tarven sat on one of his chairs, pulling on his boots.

"Is Cenrid a threat to Camelot and all of my father's plans?" He looked up at the servant, his gaze expressionless. "We're all playing a dangerous game, Fyren, and right now he is the biggest threat. Would you rather I not have warned them, and let them continued to merrily go about their courtship, until a thug of his comes and uses her to blackmail Liam into betraying my father? You _know_ how ruthless he is... After all, you've seen it first hand."

The red-head at the door jolted, his eyes narrowing.

"And what would you know about that?"

Tarven stood up, still composed.

"I know that if it weren't for the fact _your_ side of your family was estranged from the other, Cenrid would have known to have his men be a bit more thorough when they raided your home. As it was, no one in his lands has any idea you weren't at that estate when it was burned to the ground. Everyone but my father, mother, and I believes that you're dead... Fyrendir Gryffdawn."

If Liam had been angry, Fyren was on the verge of complete rage. He glared at Tarven, fists clenched, but unlike Liam he remained in firm control of himself.

"And since you know who I am, then you know you should step lightly with me. Your word might supersede Liam's, but that holds true for my word above yours. My father believed as yours does, that the laws are wrong, and while he may be dead I will remain his representative for the cause."

Tarven snorted dismissively.

"So says the landless lord... Maybe one day, if Cenrid meets a most deserved end, you'll be able to claim your family's estate back... Until then, I think you have chores to do. Like go and prepare my father's clothing for this evening, _before_ he starts to wonder where you are."

Fyren's eyes narrowed further, as he turned to leave.

"I intend to claim back more than just my father's estate..."

He left, closing the door behind him, before punching the wall outside and cursing under his breath. He then strode away towards Hargren's chambers, to complete the task that Tarven had pointed it. But he would also be informing the lord of his son's actions today, even if he knew Hargren would agree with the principle of the warning even if the method had been far from tactful.

Everything, even his own goals, were so far away it was impossible to tell when everything would begin to move. It was all just a waiting game... Waiting for Emrys to start down his path and make possible their hopes and aspirations.

~(-)~

Well, his new bed was lumpy, and the branches creaked a bit when he moved, but it was nice to have his feet up off the floor for the first time in about three years.

Merlin sighed, fidgeting a bit beneath his thin blanket. He was going to have to gather some dried ferns or something to pad his meagre mattress out a bit more, if he wanted to get any decent sleep. But even so, when you're tired, you're tired, and yawn after yawn snuck up on him until eventually he did drift off into the slumber... Unawares that a figure had been watching him unseen through one of the cottage windows.

Nellan, face hidden away deep within the hood of his robes, stepped away from the cottage and flitted away through the shadows of the night. Everything was in place, the preparations made, and so all that remained was the wait.

Passing beneath the eaves of the woodland around the village, he glanced back and sighed.

"Sleep well, Merlin. We'll keep watching over you for as long as is needed. Until the day you are ready to stand on your own and face your destiny."

With that he disappeared into the undergrowth, to return to his home in the Ascetir Forest. Indeed, there was nothing left to say of this prelude to the greater story. Just the quiet until the first chapter of the greater story began.

~(-)~

**Alaia Skyhawk: Sooo, a tiny snippet about Fyren, and Tarven reveals to Hana that he's not quite as much of a douche as his threat afterwards makes him seem. And no, Hana didn't tell Liam in the note about Tarven actually having a bit of respect for him. Liam wouldn't have flown off the handle like that if she had XD**


	46. Twenty Years 'Part 1'

**Alaia Skyhawk: Well, this is officially at the half-way point. I was going to finish and post this a couple of nights ago, but decided to refresh my memory of eps S1:01 and S1:02... Which turned into a "watch all of seasons 1&2" couple of nights XD**

**From this point onwards this story runs in parallel to my planned fic, A Question of Destiny, and will show things that are linked to, affect, or are affected by the events of the show and that story :)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Merlin TV series etc, but I do own the star of this fic... LIAM!**

**Music: Merlin Lost (Merlin OST) Pastheen Fionn (Folk music)**

~(-)~

Chapter 46: Twenty Years ~Part 1~

'We will gather this eve to pay our respects, when the moon marks the midnight hour' that had been their instructions. The past three days had been a show put on for Uther, a festival he had forewarned Hargren about so that they might both hold a celebration of it being twenty years since magic had been banned and 'order' restored to Camelot and the rest of the lands allied to it.

One by one, the members of the conspiracy's inner circle made their way to the lower levels of the manor, to a small chamber agreed upon for this purpose... A service of memorial, to those who had lost their lives in the Purge and during the years since. A mark of respect for they who had died due to Uther's blindness.

The now nineteen-year-old Liam arrived at the chamber, not the first or the last to do so. Besides a few inches in height and a more reserved demeanour, he'd changed little in three years, settled as he was in his place here. He noted that Timothe and the other most-trusted of Hargren's guards were here, along with Yale, the chief horse trainer. Clara was also present, although there was no sign of Jancine yet, or her husband and Fyren. Another whom was here almost made him choke in surprise, but Tarven's warning frown told Liam to think better than to comment on it. All told, everyone who should be here was here, excepting Hargren, Jancine, and Fyren, and it was a fair bet that those last three to arrive would come together.

Liam walked to the table that had been set in the room, placing a candle stub on the metal tray there and using one of the tapers provided to light it with the flame from the lamp also provided. He'd have liked to place a whole candle for Kalem, but not expecting this even he'd not had the chance to squirrel one away without anyone from the main stores noticing. Instead he'd put his light out earlier than usual the past three evenings, to ensure he'd have part of a candle left for today.

He bowed his head, eyes closed for a moment, before stepping back and moving to lean against the nearby wall to wait. He didn't have to wait long, and sure enough all three of those yet to arrive entered together.

Hargren acknowledged those present with a small nod, proceeding to the table and like everyone else he placed and lit a candle upon the tray. He then stepped to the side of the table, and turned to face everyone as they gathered in the middle of the room.

"I know the past three days have been hard on you all. I know that I myself have found them to be especially unsettling. To celebrate the deaths of so many innocents is not something I wanted to do, but unfortunately I had no choice but to hold the festival as Uther had requested, in order to maintain appearances. For that reason I, and all of you my most trusted associates, are here to rectify that. We will give our prayers and respect to the departed souls of those lost to the injustice of the law against magic."

Jancine, stood as she was at the other end of the table, picked up where he left off.

"Let us pray for them, in the only way that is fitting. Let our words be carried to them by the Old Magic. _Slaep droren feora. Afindan eadnes aece_."

She bowed her head as she murmured the prayer in the Old Tongue, the rest of them repeating it. They then stood in vigil, remaining until the stub Liam had placed burnt out in indication of the passing of about an hour. They departed from the room in silence, the remaining candles left to burn down as Liam's had done.

Returning to his room, Liam fumbled his way through the darkness to his bed, not bothering to do more than kick off his boots. His eyes remained open to the gloom, picking out the faint glimmer of moonlight through his window before he closed them.

"Rest well, Kalem. I promise I'll keep helping everyone until magic can come back again, and I'll see it for both of us."

He rolled over onto his side, letting himself fall into slumber. Years had dulled the pain of the loss, but he would never forget it.

~(-)~

"So where are you and Hana going for your picnic this week?"

Liam flushed a little at the question, flustered not by the query but by the knowing smile on Hargren's face. So what if he'd been courting her for four years, and so what that he'd not 'popped the question'. Just because his brother had proposed to Lillian barely a year after first falling in love with her, did not mean that _he _couldn't take things slow.

He frowned the smallest bit, still flustered as he straightened his desk before leaving.

"We're going down to the river, since the weather is nice. There's a spot east of the main ford where willows overhang a grassy part of the bank."

Eyebrows went up in recognition, Hargren still smiling.

"Ah, I know the place. I had a spot much like it before I came to Ulwin, where I used to take Jancine while I was courting her. As a matter of fact, it was there that I proposed to her."

Liam almost choked at the remark, before hurriedly picking up his bag and heading for the door.

"I'll be back by the usual time, My Lord."

Hargren allowed himself a small chuckle at the young man's reaction, before the door closed and amusement turned to regret. Fyren had reported to him about Liam's little confrontation with Tarven, and what the cause had been. While Tarven had been correct in his analysis of the situation, the way he'd gone about dealing with it had certainly lacked in any real care or finesse.

While Liam and Hana's relationship had survived that moment of turmoil, the damage to Liam's confidence had been done. Cenrid was still launching sporadic raids on the border, even if they were far less frequent these days, and he was too fearful of endangering Hana through association. He'd continued to court her, but had repeatedly hesitated to take the next step. Hana, bless her, understood this, and was waiting patiently until Liam was confident enough he could keep her safe.

Hargren sighed at that thought, shaking his head slightly. He'd have offered to have Hana be given a job and a room inside the manor, gaining her the protection of the manor walls at all times except when going into the main town. But Jancine had firmly put her foot down and said no, not because she didn't want Hana inside the manor, but because it would do more harm than good... It would be like telling Liam that they didn't think he could protect Hana on his own, and that they thought they had to do it for him. He was tentative by nature unless a rare bout of temper made him impulsive, the result of all he'd been through and the sheltered life he'd had in the manor since. He was confident to a certain point and in certain situations, but all of those were related to his job and duties. Jancine was correct in her assessment, that an intervention would make Liam feel he was useless with regards to protecting those he cared for.

The lord pushed the thoughts aside, turning his attention back to the pile of letters on his desk. One of them had Uther's seal on it, but with a small dot pressed into the wax beside it. It was the king's way of indicating to Hargren if a letter were business or not. A seal with a dot was a correspondence, a letter seeking some unofficial advice or simply to tell of recent matters in an informal manner.

It was for that reason that letters marked in that fashion were the only ones Liam was not permitted to open and sort. Instead he was just to place them prominently on the top of the pile of more urgent matters and leave it at that.

Hargren broke the seal, leaning back in his chair as he began to read and immediately his expression changed to a concerned frown. He checked the pile of urgent letters, finding the mentioned royal statement on the top... The final night of the festival, a witch disguised as Lady Helen had tried to _kill_ Arthur in the middle of the feast. The lady's body had been discovered by other travellers on their way to Camelot from Mora, and she'd since been sent with an escort to be returned to her family. The witch's corpse had been disposed of in the usual manner for those guilty of sorcerey.

He set aside the formal statement, turning his attention back to the informal letter. Here was written that which Uther could not voice in the formal one, his thoughts on the matter. The letter expressed both his fury and his horror at the attempt against his son, his disbelief that Arthur would be targeted at all.

_'Let them come after me, that much I would expect, but to try hurt me by harming my son? I thank the heavens there was one there who reacted to the threat in time to save him. Had he not, my son would be dead.'_

Hargren read those words and the mention of the prince's saviour that followed. Uther paid little heed to individual commoners, at least most of the time, and he didn't doubt that within a week he'd be misnaming his son's new manservant. Oh, he'd re-remember the name properly at some point if the young man held onto his new job long enough, but until then 'Merlin' was likely to find the king, if Uther used his name at all, calling him any number of possible mispronunciations of that.

There was a polite knock on his door, Hargren calling out even as it opened.

"Come in." Nellan entered the study, not looking quite as well-groomed as he usually did for these visits. In fact for anyone who knew him well, he looked like he'd been in something of a rush to get here. "Has something happened?"

The druid shook his head, raising a hand to reassure the lord.

"Nothing bad, but I admit I came in haste. I need to you pass some instructions to your spies inside Camelot." Nellan's eyes drifted to the section of broken seal visible on the back of the letter Hargren held, his expression changing to curiosity. "Uther have anything interesting to say? About his celebration of past massacres..."

Hargren frowned slightly in disapproval of that last comment, but said nothing as he glanced down at it.

"It's certainly different from the norm... A witch tried to kill Prince Arthur during the final feast of the festival."

"_What?_"

Hargren waved the letter, this time it being his turn to reassure.

"Oh, he's fine. The young man who saved him from the dagger throw has been made his manservant, although Uther has noted that neither of them seemed to be that impressed by it."

Nellan remained silent for a moment, before slowing walking to the desk and holding a hand out.

"May I see it?"

Hargren handed over the letter, but much to his confusion, when Nellan got to the part where the new servant's name was mentioned, the druid suddenly spluttered in shock before starting to laugh.

"Now if _that_ isn't destiny playing a hand, then I don't know what is! There's no doubting now that Arthur is the Once and Future King."

Hargren stared at him.

"What do you mean?"

Nellan was smiling like an idiot, his elation clear to see.

"That new manservant of his, who randomly saved him from that witch... That's what I came to tell you, that yesterday my watchmen came to me to report that a certain warlock we've been guarding for the past seven years has gone to Camelot. Merlin is _Emrys!_"

Hargren gaped in shock.

"Arthur's new servant is Emrys?"

Nellan nodded, still grinning.

"If that's not destiny... He's in Camelot for only _three _days and he gets himself instated right at the side of the Once and Future King. And not only that, but he arrived in time to save him from the first of no doubt many threats. That's why I came. I was going to ask you to have your spies keep watch on Merlin since mine can't enter the city. All they could do was hang around the fringes long enough to confirm Merlin was in Camelot and there to stay."

Hargren grabbed a sheet of paper from the small stack in a tray on his desk, starting to write a message immediately.

"I'll let them know to watch Merlin, and let us know of anything important that they see. Neither of them know the prophecy, I kept that deliberate, but they trust magic and will monitor what he does for us. Perhaps later I'll reveal more to them, but for now..."

Nellan nodded.

"The less they know the better. This is it, Hargren, the start of the prophecy. From this point on, it's all up to Merlin. Camelot and Albion's future is now resting on his shoulders."

~(-)~

**Alaia Skyhawk: Ta da! I hope you guys liked this one :D**


	47. Twenty Years 'Part 2'

**Alaia Skyhawk: Woo, this fic has reached the 300 review mark! lol at the number of reviews on the last chapter. I was half-betting with myself that the mention of Merlin would cause a review spike, and I was right XD**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Merlin TV series etc, but I do own the star of this fic... LIAM!**

**Music: Llanthony Valley (Folk music)**

~(-)~

Chapter 47: Twenty Years ~Part 2~

The two men walked towards the horse-training yards, one a step behind the other, one a lord and the other only pretending not to be. The Lord of Ulwin and his half-witted servant, those were the roles they played. And as such no one paid them any heed as they went along their way, allowing them to discuss in hushed tones their reason for this errand.

Hargren eyes roved over the various people and servants out and about, nodding to some even as he murmured to the young man beside him.

"I've had something in mind for a while, and I want you to assist in carrying it out. Your reputation make you ideal, and you're one of the few I can trust to the extent needed for this."

Fyren hid a smile, inwardly pleased at the remark although his dim façade hid it.

"So why are we going to the yards? Planning another present for the prince?"

"Of a sort..." Hargren glanced back briefly, his eyes holding a smile. "Just as I gave Arthur one of our horses, I also had Yale begin training one especially for Emrys to use, should the opportunity arise to legitimately give one to him. Nellan has informed me that Emrys is now in Camelot, and by sheer chance circumstance has been made Prince Arthur's manservant."

Fyren spluttered in surprise, starting to laugh then hastily suppressing it before anyone nearby noticed.

"Then I guess that answers the question about Arthur, although I can't say I envy... What's his real name? Or am I not allowed to know?"

Hargren raised an eyebrow, turning his head to look forward again.

"His name is Merlin, and he got his new position through saving Arthur from the witch whom attempted to kill him in the middle of the last feast of the festival."

"A witch tried to kill the prince? And Em... Merlin saved him?"

Hargren sighed, he too had been shocked when he'd learnt of it.

"Indeed. He pulled him out of the path of what would have been a lethal dagger throw. The fact he is now Arthur's manservant means he's perfectly placed to protect him, and it also gives me the excuse I needed with regards to the horse. Tarven will be leaving this afternoon to compete in the sword tournament in Camelot. I want you to go with him, and deliver the horse at the same time."

They were now at the yards, Fyren now picking up his pace to walk alongside the lord since they were now in Yale's domain. Every man and woman working in this part of the manor was a sympathiser of magic. Here his façade of dullness wasn't needed.

He looked sidelong at Hargren, a small frown on his face now he was free to show it.

"Won't giving a horse to a new servant seem suspicious?"

Hargren stared back in bland regard, as if the answer should be obvious.

"Arthur spends a lot of time on patrol, or checking on villages, and up until now Bern has almost always gone with him. The same can be assumed of Merlin, that he will be required to accompany the prince for many things. I will simply state in the message you will take, that the horse is not of the standards I would supply to the nobility, but it will be a far more reliable and suitable mount for the prince's personal servant to be using. The last thing he needs is for his servant's horse to panic and go out of control at a critical moment, and the recent attempt against him is proof it would be prudent to be prepared."

Fyren started to smile, his expression impressed.

"Ah, so you're giving the horse to Arthur, but because it's not 'perfect' it's just for his servant to use. Clever."

The lord chuckled wryly.

"Although in truth the horse has received far more extensive training than even the one I gave to Arthur. Yale has prepared it especially to be ridden by a sorcerer. When there comes a time that magic can be used openly again, Merlin will be able to throw spells from the saddle and that horse won't even twitch an ear. The side effect though, is that it has developed a trait typical of mounts trained for such a purpose."

He led Fyren into one of the stables, and to the stall he knows contained the rather plain-looking but special horse.

Fyren reached out to let it sniff him, not seeing any real difference in the creature that came towards his hand.

"Seems like the others to m... Hey!"

He yanked his hand back when the horse attempted to bite him, Hargren blandly reaching out to place a firm tug on the beast's halter and send it towards the back of the stall.

"Horses trained to accept the presence and protection of a sorcerer in the saddle, tend to be mistrustful of those they can sense do not possess such powers. This horse will tolerate being handled by a non-sorcerer, when they do it right, but heaven help one who tries to ride it. Yale is the only one here in the manor who this fellow with accept on his back."

Fyren, having inspected his hand to ensure he still had all his fingers, looked up at him with a

"That attitude will certainly help with the 'it's not perfect' excuse. People will just assume Merlin has a knack with it, or that the horse just decided it liked him." He sighed, tucking his hands into the pockets of his jacket. "So when am I leaving?"

Hargren turned away from the stall, solemn.

"This afternoon. Liam will take over your duties until you return."

Fyren's mouth twitched in a small smile.

"You sure? Because it's been a long time since he's had to do the menial side of things."

"You know full well he knows how to do those duties properly." Hargren pointed to the stable doors, after handing a small folded piece of paper. "Go on, go prepare your gear for the trip. I'll need you to pass this message on to our spies in the castle as well, while Tarven keeps Uther and Arthur distracted. I also want you to get what observations of Merlin that you can, without drawing attention to yourself. Nellan tells me some things, but there is still much he has not. I want an honest first-hand account from another set of eyes. I know Nellan has reasons for being obscure, he's a druid."

"But it would still be nice to know." Fyren finished the sentence, heading for the door. "I'll report to you as soon as I get back."

Fyren hurries off, leaving Hargren to turn back to the stall and gaze at the horse thoughtfully. Nellan had made certain things clear, that they were not to interfere directly with any of Merlin's actions. He wouldn't object to the gift of the horse, seeing as he'd been fine with Arthur receiving one, but anything else and he might sever all but the most fleeting ties between his clan and Ulwin. This had to be played tactfully, and of all his supporters, Fyren was the one best at that.

~(-)~

The arrival in Camelot just over two days later was anti climactic, Fyren trailing behind 'Sir' Tarven, the 'cranky horse' tied to a lead-rein fixed to his saddle. In Ulwin, Tarven was always 'Lord', but here in Camelot his position as a knight held more importance than his place as Hargren's heir. Even so, it still played a part in his duties as a knight. He was outside the normal structure of command, since Uther would not order him somewhere that would endanger him. He would not risk the son and heir of his staunchest ally, not when all the other knights were second, third, or even the fourth sons of various other nobles throughout the lands. If tradition had been followed, Tarven would never have become a knight at all, so instead he'd been placed under his father's direct command and would forever stay there.

The young lord seemed to know this, his almost perpetual frown during the journey making it quite clear. In Ulwin he was respected, but here in Camelot he knew all too well that some knights considered his circumstances to be akin to being babysat. Few were the men who could live with that implied humiliation, but Tarven did it with apparent east. The sense of dignity he could muster up from his pride, letting him walk with his head high even as his displays of skill in the arena put paid to the rumours of him being a weak fighter.

That was his reason for being here, to compete in the tournament along with more than a dozen other knights. Being a distraction so Fyren could pass orders to the spies was just a sideline to him for this trip.

They rode into the castle courtyard, Prince Arthur already waiting on the steps since word had been sent ahead from the city gates. He descended them to greet Tarven, clapping him on the shoulder while smiling.

"It's good to see you could make it, Sir Tarven. I was beginning to wonder, what with the tournament starting tomorrow."

Fyren watched as Tarven lifted his chin slightly, a faint haughtiness in his tone.

"And I remind you that I'm here only because if I did not come then certain people would question my strength. In Ulwin, my position as commander of the garrison, with over two dozen border battles under my belt, makes my skill unquestionable. It's unfortunate though that many do not take them into account, especially seeing as I left as late as I could and still arrive her in time, to ensure the border remains secured in my absence."

Arthur winced in slight sympathy at that. In Camelot, knights were best known for their victories in the arena. Battles on a distant border, while more impressive in a tactical sense, rarely came to the forefront of peoples' minds. Tarven had seen far more front-line combat than him, and yet he had seen far more glory in the arena. In a one-on-one fight, there was no doubt he would win. But in a large scale battle, with numerous warriors to command, it was certain the outcome would be the opposite.

He looked in Fyren's direction, the servant avoiding eye-contact and pretending to be distracted by something, but it was clear to him the prince was looking for something to change the subject. The 'cranky horse' chose that moment to snort in mild protest to being kept stood there, and Arthur immediately leapt at the opportunity to move away from the awkward topic.

"Another of your father's horses? There's nothing wrong with the one I received three years ago, in fact it's the best horse I've even owned."

Tarven too welcomed the change, indicating the horse before folding his arms across his chest.

"It has some flaws, which mean it doesn't meet the standards my father expects before one of his horses be placed for sale. When he got word of the... incident... at the feast a few days ago, he decided that if your personal manservant continues to accompany you as they always have, it would be prudent for them to ride a horse that will not panic at an inopportune moment if you are attacked while out in the open. If they can manage its quirks, you are free to keep it to be used as their assigned mount."

Arthur raised his eyebrows, a bit surprised but also amused as he approached the horse.

"And what quirks would those be?"

He reached out to place a hand on the horse's nose, only to hastily pull it back when the gelding's lip peeled back and it bared its teeth in threat. Fyren was forced to look away or be unable to prevent himself bursting out laughing, pretending to chastise the horse with a tug on its lead-rein while Tarven explained.

"It's rather picky about who it will let ride it. Using a firm hand will make it allow you to tend to it, but so far the only person its liked enough to let them ride it is our chief trainer. My father informed me of how disappointed he was, since Trainer Yale takes great pride the horses, and would hate to see this one go to waste."

Eyeing the gelding for a second time, the prince snorted.

"Then I fear bringing it here was a waste of time... My new manservant is an idiot. That horse is more likely to kill him than be a benefit." A figure came into view, Arthur starting to frown as they hurried down the steps from the castle entrance. "And speaking of which... Merlin! You're _late!_"

The moment the name was uttered, Fyren discretely turned to get a good look at Camelot's and Arthur's prophesied protector and saviour. The servant was a skinny as a rake, slight and slender of build with the most prominent ears and cheekbones he'd even seen on a man. He had a face that was unmistakable and unforgeable beneath his mop of black hair, and the almost resigned hint of an eye-roll as he came made it clear he'd expected to be talked down to even if he had gotten here quick enough to suit the prince.

"I'm sorry, Sire... I was in the middle of taking your cleaned laundry back to you chambers. I didn't think you'd want them left in the middle of a hallway."

The statement had been delivered flatly, but by the glare Arthur directed at him he knew that sarcasm had been implied. He seemed to be as unimpressed with their circumstances as Merlin was.

The prince pointed to the gelding, barking out an order.

"You're to take that to my personal stable, and inform the stable master that it is assigned for your use. You got lucky, it seems, because you've become my manservant just in time to get the chance of riding one of the finest-trained horses you're ever likely to come close to."

There had been a slight edge to his tone, Fyren realising right away that Arthur was hoping Merlin would get bitten. Instead though, Fyren watched as Merlin came over and accepted the lead-rein from him... and the horse actually _approached_ him without being directed to.

Merlin awkwardly petted it on the nose, before it whuffled into the front of his shirt contentedly and he started to smile.

"Nice horse."

For a moment Arthur actually gaped, before seeming to decide that if Merlin could do it then so could he.

"Pass him here for a moment."

The instant fingers came close to halter, the gelding whipped its head over Merlin's shoulder and snapped its teeth closed less than an inch from Arthur's retreating hand. This time Fyren was forced to duck behind his horse and out of sight so he could compose himself, his predicament of mirth only made worse by the comment from Merlin that followed.

"Maybe it just doesn't like blondes..."

He choked into his hand, before forcing a straight face and coming back into view. Arthur looked livid, the prince pointing sharply to the main gate while glaring at his servant.

"Stables... _now..._ And take the other two horses as well."

"Yes, Sire."

Merlin took charge of all three horses once Fyren had removed his and Tarven's bags, leading them out of the gate and around the side of the castle to the stables. First impression of Merlin... He was _exactly_ the sort of person Arthur needed by him if he was ever going to stop being so arrogant. He had a wit and sarcasm to him, and a willingness to speak things plainly and bluntly. To most he would come across as being an idiot, but to Fyren, who had turned such a façade into an art, it was clear Merlin was more intelligent than Arthur was already not giving him credit for.

Fyren liked this 'Emrys' already...

~(-)~

**Alaia Skyhawk: Hehehe, on a side note, any scene in this from now on, where Arthur and/or Merlin are present with one of Hargren's crew, it will be shown from their point of view in A Question of Destiny. So when I write that story and it gets to this bit, you can crack yourselves up all over again reading it from Arthur and Merlin's PoV :D**


	48. Twenty Years 'Part 3'

**Alaia Skyhawk: Here's part three, man I really need to get my update schedule back on track :S**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Merlin TV series etc, but I do own the star of this fic... LIAM!**

**Music: Hunith's Letter to Gaius, Breaking the Spell, Prince Arthur and Valiant (Merlin OST)**

~(-)~

Chapter 48: Twenty Years ~Part 3~

It was rather easy to meander through the hallways, pretending to be a disorientated and befuddled servant of a visiting lord... In fact it was almost too easy.

Keeping his confused façade in place, ready to 'ask for directions' if any of the castle staff queried his reason for wandering, Fyren was inwardly frowning. Didn't the king realise just how lax some of his security was? Only a fool paid so little heed to 'servants' as he seemed to be doing.

Then again, it was that laxness which would prevent him paying too much attention to Merlin.

Fyren allowed himself a small sigh, before turning into an out-of-the-way hallway to wait. A note had been left in Tarven's guest room, indicating a meeting with one of Hargren's two spies, and as the young lord's temporary manservant it was his job to go to the rendezvous. He arrived deliberately early, concealing himself in an alcove just in case, but he needn't have worried. He recognised the guardsman who came and stopped in the hallway, and started to smile even as he came out of hiding.

"It's been a while, Georg. When Lord Hargren had you 'transferred' to another posting, I never realised he'd sent you here."

The older man chuckled, pulling off his right glove to reveal he was wearing a small silver signet ring, engraved with the Pendragon crest. He was a Trusted Retainer?

Georg replaced his glove, still smiling at Fyren's reaction to the ring.

"He sacrificed having my skills at his side, because he knew that with them and his recommendation of me to Uther, I'd gain a more than firm footing here. I'm the captain of the castle guard, second in command, and one of only four commoners here in Camelot with one of these rings. My superior, Commander Keiran, and the commander of the city guard also have them, as does Gaius, the Court Physician. Providing I keep my head down, this ring means I can observe within the castle and city without ever being suspect. Lord Hargren went to a lot of effort, with both the letter of recommendation, and later enquiries about my service, to manipulate the king into giving it to me."

Fyren looked a little bemused, shaking his head and getting back to the matter at hand.

"I can't say that learning that surprises me." He pulled the message from Hargren out of his pocket, handing it to Georg. "I have new orders for you and our other operative, direct from Lord Hargren."

The guardsmen read the note, his eyebrows rising in surprise.

"He wants us to watch Merlin? But the boy is hardly of note. He's done naught but seem to make a simpleton of himself ever since he arrived."

Fyren stepped closer, lowering his voice and glancing furtively down the hall.

"He's been under observation for a number of years, for what reason I cannot say. All I will say is that both he and Arthur are important, and we need you to tell us anything unusual that you and your counterpart see or hear regarding either of them."

Georg handed back the note, at once both solemn and serious.

"Then I will see to it that it will be done. Catherine is ideally placed with her job in the laundry, and will inform me of any castle gossip that seems of note. I will keep my ear out for the mutterings of the men under my command. You can inform Lord Hargren that he can count on us to be discrete."

Fyren nodded, folding his arms across his chest after returning the note to his pocket.

"What can you tell me about Merlin so far?"

Georg's expression became thoughtful, as he considered all that he knew up to now.

"He seems an easily distracted young man, with either a lack of respect for rank or a lack of common sense to show some. He wasn't impressed by getting the job of serving the prince, but he's doing it regardless. I'm actually surprised he didn't refuse it, given his apparent opinion of it. For some reason he's decided to stick it out."

"That is sort of odd." Fyren mulled over the report, filing the information away for later. "Anyways, report monthly unless anything serious happens, and don't draw attention to yourself. Nellan has a watchman out in the woods east of here, in the area around the usual place to leave messages. Hand all reports to them."

Georg nodded crisply, before turning and walking away.

"Understood."

Fyren went in the opposite direction, thoughtful even as he replaced his feigned expression of cluelessness. If Merlin really was that put out by his new position, then why _did_ he choose to stick around?

Unable to answer that, he headed back to the guest room to help Tarven prepare for the tournament. The next few days might just be interesting.

That wasn't the case for a certain servant many miles away, who was at this very moment doing the chores that normally belonged to him.

Liam quickly finished changing the sheets of Hargren's bed, casting a cursory glance over the lord's rooms to assure himself that nothing else needed tidying. He'd been instructed not to worry about the cleaning of floors and the dusting of furniture, those to be left for Fyren to sort once the other servant returned from Camelot. But he still couldn't help but frown to himself when already he could see a faint layer of dust accumulating on certain items within the rooms.

To stop himself getting aggravated about it, he hurried out of the rooms to take the tray of breakfast things to the kitchens. He hadn't done chores like this often since his short time as Clara's assistant, and it felt odd to say the least, but at least he still remembered how to do it properly... He had to, it was his job to take care of the majority of dignitaries that occasionally visited, not that they came often. Only on rare occasions was Fyren set to serve them instead.

Liam sighed, wondering why the redhead had been sent with Tarven to Camelot. Tarven had a servant of his own, another one of the supporters of magic, so why hadn't they gone with him instead?

Like Fyren's question to himself so far away, Liam couldn't answer that question either. He just took the tray to the kitchens before going to collect the daily reports. Doing Fyren's duties didn't spare him from his own, and the drain on what little free time he had was going to tell on him during the days until they came back... There wasn't going to be a picnic with Hana this week. He just hoped Fyren's week would be as uneventful...

~(-)~

Why the hell couldn't this week have been simple? It was supposed to be an easy job of deliver the orders to Hargren's spies, then pretend to be a dimwitted simpleton while getting Tarven his meals and making sure his armour and weapons were fit for the tournament.

Fyren cursed to himself, his oblivious 'half-wit' smile returning every time he had to pass another servant but changing to a scowl as soon as he was alone again. In the space of a single audience with the king, the day before the tournament final, it seemed as though the fateful yet tenuous association between Arthur and Merlin had been shattered before it had barely even started. He'd overheard Arthur dismissing Merlin from service, but then lost the warlock when he left to make a quick report to Tarven on the situation. It was now drawing into evening, tomorrow's match and the apparent but ignored threat edging closer, and by Hargren's own orders he wasn't allowed to do anything but watch.

It was frustrating, incredibly frustrating, to think something like this would happen so soon. He was all set to do something stupid like go steal the shield when he came to the central courtyard and stopped in his tracks.

Merlin was sat on the steps, talking to the Lady Morgana's maid, and he looked worried. Fyren watched, waiting until she left, before starting to walk over, but before he could reach him Merlin suddenly got up and walked to stand beside a statue of a dog reared up holding a shield.

The warlock tried to pick it up, grimacing, and Fyren could resist temptation no longer. He approached him, still pretending to be dumb.

"You need help with that?"

Merlin looked up in surprise, before his expression became momentarily calculating. Everyone in the castle knew that Sir Tarven's manservant was 'missing a few', and Merlin as expected played along to that.

He stood straight, plastering an innocent smile on his face.

"Yeah, I uh... need to take this to be cleaned. Will you help me carry it?"

That was exactly what Fyren did, before secreting himself where he could watch for anyone entering or leaving the chambers of Gaius, the Court Physician. How ironic, to think a man who was viewed as a traitor to magic, should have magic's destined saviour living in his spare room under his care. But waiting here only renewed the frustration.

Why had Merlin wanted the statue, and what was he doing now? It seemed he'd get the chance to find out, when Gaius left and he took the risk of darting up the stairs and quietly entering the chambers.

The main room was devoid of occupation, but the room at the rear had its door closed. He could hear a muffled voice, repeating something over and over, that something becoming clear once he neared the bottom of the stairs leading to it.

Fyren felt like the bottom had fallen out of his guts, while his head went sailing towards the ceiling in both shock and hope. Merlin was repeating some sort of incantation in the Old Tongue, and sounded like he'd been at it for a while, which meant only one thing.

Gaius knew Merlin had magic, and was actively ignoring and not reporting it to Uther!

He crept up the steps, careful not to touch the door lest it move or make a noise, even as he levelled an eye to peer through one of the gaps. Merlin was pacing around the room, blurting out the awkwardly pronounced spell and directing it at the dog statue. Fyren may have only had a limited vocabulary of the Old Tongue, but he could have told the warlock that he was pronouncing most of them wrong.

Fyren watched him for a few more minutes, realising that Merlin was trying to do whatever it was the spell was supposed to do, for Arthur's sake. His agitation and clear frustration made it clear, especially when at one point he picked up an old and battered looking book and tossed it down onto his bed.

He backed up from the door, leaving the chambers lest he be caught here when he shouldn't be, but even so he couldn't deny his sense of victory at another snippet of information he could give to Hargren.

Merlin had a spellbook, one that he certainly didn't have before arriving in Camelot, and there was only one person here who could have given it to him. It looked like Gaius had chosen to do more than just ignore his ward's magic.

Once again he took up watch, observing Gaius' return to the chambers and Merlin later leaving them. The warlock went straight to Prince Arthur's chambers, and once again Fyren found himself eavesdropping on their conversation.

"I thought I told you to get out of my sight..."

"Don't fight Valiant in the final tomorrow..."

And there it was, genuine concern. Arthur had done nothing but treat him like dirt, and yet Merlin still insisted on trying to help him. Why did he stick around? What was the reason, the motivation behind it? Fyren could only wonder at it until he once again turned his attention back to the conversation.

"Then withdraw... You have to withdraw."

"Don't you understand? I _can't_ withdraw! The people expect their prince to fight. How can I lead men into battle if they think I'm a coward?"

"Valiant will kill you! If you fight, you die."

"Then I die!"

"...How can you go out there and fight like that?"

"...Because I have to... It's my duty..."

Fyren stiffened, barely able to believe his ears. Prince Arthur, the arrogant and prideful Prince Arthur, had just uttered such words to the servant he'd told he no longer needed. Not only that, he'd said them in such a solemn fashion that even without being able to see him, Fyren knew he'd have a grim expression on his face.

Merlin emerged from the prince's chambers, forcing his observer to quickly duck out of view, the warlock equally grim yet displaying a gleam of determination in his eyes, and his expression said it all... He wasn't going to allow Arthur to die.

Fyren watched him go, before turning and leaving to report to Tarven. Merlin had been in Camelot for barely two weeks and yet he already displayed this level of loyalty to Arthur. It was going to be an interesting report indeed.

~(-)~

The following morning dawned clear, but there had been little rest for Fyren. He'd lain awake for most of the night, unable to settle due to worry. Was he _honestly_ worried about Arthur? Well if he truly wished to be honest with himself, he was... So much was depending on him, yet in less than an hour he could be lying dead in the arena and Albion would die with him.

He and Tarven headed for the arena, the lord murmuring to him as they did. That he'd lost to Arthur did not bother him, there had been no shame in it, and he would still have a place of honour sitting in the royal box with the king and Lady Morgana. But that honour also meant he could not keep watch for Merlin.

"If Valiant is truly a threat to Arthur, then Merlin will act to protect him. But he won't do it openly. Put yourself where you think he's most likely to act _from_."

Fyren nodded in understanding, leaning himself against the wall beside the path between arena and castle. From there he had a clear view of the arena and the fight that soon started within it, but there was no sign of Merlin. When Arthur knocked Valiant's helm away, and removed his own, Fyren only felt apprehension when the other knight immediately pushed back his chainmail coif and Arthur did the same in response... The prince's head and neck were now exposed and vulnerable should the shield really be a threat.

Within moments of this change of events, Valiant knocked Arthur to the ground with a brutal shield-blow to the chin. Arthur succeeded in regaining his feet, only to be disarmed and driven into a part of the arena wall mere yards from where he stood, and that was when he noticed Merlin standing at the end of the wall just a few _feet_ from where he was standing.

Merlin's eyes were locked on the fight, unawares that there was one person close by who was watching _him _rather than Valiant and Arthur's battle. And watch Fyren did, as Merlin raised his hand and pointed at Valiant's shield... A now perfectly pronounced incantation flowing from his lips.

"_Bebeode pe arisan cwicum__._"

The reaction from the shield was immediate, the two remaining snakes coming to life much to the surprise of the shield's owner. With a shouted command he sent them at Arthur, but both they and Valiant himself were soon-after slain by the sword Lady Morgana had snatched from Tarven's belt to throw to Arthur.

The crowd cheered Arthur's victory, unawares of the warlock who silently slipped away unpraised. Fyren left him be, waiting until the evening feast before once again placing himself close, close enough to listen when Arthur entered the dining hall to the applause of the guests.

"I told you... He gets all the girls and all the glory."

"And he owes it all to you."

He smiled at those words, backing deeper into the obscurity at the edges of the room, letting Merlin and Gaius enjoy their moment. He'd viewed the physician as a traitor to magic until now, but to see and realise that he not only knew about Merlin's magic but had chosen to harbour him, made that view fade away. Gaius wasn't forgiven for his actions by any means, not by him, but if he kept this up he might just earn that forgiveness.

One thing did cheer him up even further though, and that was the conversation he soon heard between Arthur and Merlin. Resulting in the warlock being 're-hired' by the prince... and then immediately looking almost horrified at the list of chores Arthur reeled off for him to do... It was going to be fun telling Lord Hargren about all that had happened.

~(-)~

"And that's the gist of it, My Lord. Merlin saved Arthur using an incantation that I can say, with almost complete certainty, that he learnt and mastered in the space of a few hours."

Hargren leaned back in his chair, mulling over the report. An informal letter from Uther had arrived just a short while before Tarven and Fyren's return, and it was a relief to get the details from his servant. Setting that letter aside he now regarded Fyren speculatively, since he knew there was something the man had omitted thus far.

"And this spell he learnt, you know where he learnt it from?"

Fyren started to smile, looking rather pleased.

"He was practicing it in his room, which is reached through the chambers of Gaius, the Court Physician, and he was referencing it from what appeared to be a spellbook." The smile widened. "And not only that, but I eavesdropped on them during the feast and heard an interesting comment that indicates that not only is Gaius aware of Merlin's powers, but is quite likely the one who gave him the book."

Hargren stiffened in surprise.

"Gaius is actively harbouring a sorcerer, when he's supposedly Uther's staunchest ally?"

Fyren nodded.

"He is, and he didn't seem all that guilty about it either... More pleased that Merlin was using his magic for a good cause. But I don't think he'd realised who Merlin is yet. He was too offhand about his saving Arthur for him to know the significance of it at this point."

Hargren sighed, once again thoughtful.

"Then it stands to be that we will have to wait and see what he does when time comes that he discovers it. What will he do when he realises his ward and Arthur are the ones spoken of in the prophesy."

The door of the study opened, Liam entering only to stop in surprise when he saw Fyren.

"You're back? But when did you..."

"We only arrived back only a short while ago... You were still sorting our lord's chambers at that point." Fyren turned back to Hargren, indicating the door. "I'm sure Tarven will want to tell you about how he came close to beating Arthur in the semi-final."

Hargren took the hint that Fyren wanted to continue their talk, but that they would need to go elsewhere so Liam wouldn't hear it. He rose to his feet, nodding to Liam as both he and Fyren headed out the door.

"Sort the replies for the domestic matters as usual, and then you can have the afternoon off to make up for not getting your usual morning off this week."

The door closed behind him, Liam looking rather pleased at the gesture. He headed to the desk to pick up the pile of domestic reports, but noticed the opened letter as he did so.

He picked it up, reading the words of King Uther confiding his anger and concern that another magical attempt had been made against Arthur. He quickly dropped it, realising it was one of the letters he wasn't supposed to read. He then hurried to his desk and set about his work... pausing when he wondered over what the letter meant...

...And why it felt like he should remember something...

~(-)~

**Alaia Skyhawk: Well, there you go. You'll notice some of my planned changes for that episode when I write it, just from reading this. Fyren was a naughty boy and did a bit more 'observing' than he should have, but it paid off in the end :)**


	49. Negotiations 'Part 1'

**Alaia Skyhawk: Now we're into some really interesting stuff hehehehe.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Merlin TV series etc, but I do own the star of this fic... LIAM!**

**Music: The Forged Seal (Merlin OST)**

~(-)~

Chapter 49: Negotiations ~Part 1~

If there were truly such a thing as 'organised chaos' then this was it...

Servants scrambled everywhere, the entire manor in a state of frenetic activity. All available servants had been drafted to the cause, the task being prepare fifteen guest rooms of varying status, get a very large entourage settled, and also somehow prepare a feast all before the sun set... It said something to admit that somehow they were managing to do it.

Liam hurried towards guest wing, so laden with sheets and fancy throws to put on beds that he could barely see over the pile at where he was going. His headache was going to be bigger than most, since Lord Hargren had placed _him_ in charge of organising the preparation of the guest rooms. He'd spent the past hour ordering a covey of twenty other servants, to carry out the varied tasks ranging from cleaning floors and polishing furniture, to getting the beds sorted. When it had seemed that the latter-most task was taking too long, he'd then elected to help with it himself, hence his present armload.

Reaching the guest wing, he left his pile where it would be easily found, immediately turning around and descending back through the manor to the laundry. Getting there was the easy part... Getting _into_ the complex of rooms proved to be another thing.

If the rest of the manor was organised chaos, then it was blissful calm compared to what was going on in here. The sudden announcement of a feast meant an influx of garments from nobles that had to be freshened up and pressed, and the staff in here were going flat out to deal with them all. Liam left them to it, instead going to the store room where the best throws were kept and grabbing an armload before raiding the rapidly dwindling white stack nearby for the sheets to go with them.

Delivering them to the guest wing, it was with great relief that a check of the rooms revealed they were all almost ready. With that in mind, he directed five of the servants to do the finishing touches, and the rest to come with him to go gather their unexpected guests' baggage.

Now, it might be wondered who it was all this effort was being gone to for, yet the answer made it quite clear that no effort was too much. King Bayard of Mercia, who was on his way to Camelot to sign a peace treaty with the kingdom, had unexpectedly decided he was going to stop by Ulwin on his way _in_ to the kingdom... Instead of the originally agreed occasion of his being on his way home. It had thrown every carefully planned schedule right out of the nearest window.

The succession of trips to carry bags, even helped by some of Bayard's entourage, was close to torture for the already worn out Liam. When one final check revealed that at last all the rooms were ready, he dismissed the staff involved with instructions to go help prepare the great hall for the feast or whatever other jobs were available.

As for him, he made a beeline for Hargren's chambers, shut the door behind him, and slumped down into the nearest of the cushioned chairs near the embers that were left in the fireplace. When Fyren showed up with a tray of food a short while later, Liam could almost have hugged him.

The redhead grinned when he saw Liam's expression of gratitude, setting the tray on the table and seating himself opposite when the younger man came over and placed himself before it.

"I'm glad everyone thinks I'm a half-wit, all I got stuck with was helping settle Bayard's horses in the stables. You... You look completely wrung out."

Liam, chewing a mouthful of bread, swallowed it and began to grumble.

"I feel like it. Why the heck did he change his travel plans? We were supposed to have another six days to do all this."

Fyren winced in sympathy at the following thud, that thud being Liam's forehead planting itself onto the table.

"If I could tell you that we could have predicted this and been ready in advance. He's going to be half-a-day late to Camelot because of this stop, so I just hope that Uther doesn't take it personally."

There was a mutter in reply, muffled a bit by being spoken into the surface of the table.

"He won't, not with it being Lord Hargren who Bayard decided to pay respects to first. Either way, it's a mark of respect for Camelot."

Fyren continued to regard his fellow servant with sympathy, watching as Liam lifted his head and resumed clearing the plate of bread and cheese.

"I made sure your outfit is ready for later. It's laid out on your bed in your room."

Liam grimaced, thinking about the fitted shirt with its high, tight collar, and the tabard that just seemed determined to trap every bit of heat possible. Fyren had described the formal servant-wear they used in Camelot for events like these, and he was sure he would _never_ want to wear the hat that had been mentioned. Hargren's choice for formal servant outfits was conservative by comparison.

Stuffing the last of the food into his mouth, he got up and headed for the door.

"I'll go and get ready now. Could you tell Lord Hargren that the guest rooms are done, and I'll make sure to be in the great hall well before the feast starts."

"Will do."

~(-)~

It had to be admitted, even when pushed for time, the staff of the manor seemed to be able to pull off miracles.

Liam walked at a sedate pace towards the high table, a jug of wine in hand which he used to refill the goblets of Lord Hargren and his guests. The feast that was laid out looked as good as any that had been prepared with more warning, only the propensity for smaller roasts rather than the large and impressive ones giving any clue to the truth. Large ones took too long, so the cooks had done many smaller ones and disguised the fact it was to save time by glazing them with a wide variety of things.

It meant it looked like they'd gone out of their way to impress the guests with variety rather than size.

"You clearly have some good people working for you, Lord Hargren. I must say I am impressed with what you have been able to manage at such short notice."

Hargren glanced at the king seated beside him, resplendent in his formal tunic and cape. A slight hint of amusement lifted the corner of his mouth into a small smile.

"It was no trouble. Much of the food had already been brought in ready for preparation, and the guest rooms were already allocated. All I had to do was ensure that I mustered the correct number of staff to see it was all carried out as planned."

From Hargren's other side, Lady Jancine also smiled at the visiting king.

"My husband prides himself in looking ahead and preparing in advance. Many have said that is why Ulwin has prospered so well as a hub of trade. He sees potential for future investment, and creates an opening to draw such investments into our fair town."

King Bayard raised his eyebrows at that.

"I see you reputation does you both justice. You defend a border, and yet also find time for trade. Admirable indeed."

Hargren set down his fork, his tone enquiring.

"Your Highness, might I enquire as to why you _did _decide to change your itinerary?"

Swallowing a mouthful of wine from the goblet Liam had just refilled, Bayard answered the question.

"I had intended to pay my respects to you after signing the treaty, but as I was nearing Ulwin I could naught but think of how well regarded and spoken of you are by all who have passed through the lands you are steward to. I felt I had to see for myself. To meet in person one of the men who has made this treaty a possibility."

Hargren inclined his head in respect.

"You honour me, your majesty."

Liam backed away from the table, resisting the urge to yawn in boredom at all the formal pleasantries being sent back and forth. He had to endure this every time a rich trade investor visited, and it was so familiar that the tedium gave him an extreme desire to find a corner and go to sleep.

He stood there, still trying not to yawn, with his almost empty jug of wine held ready in case another top-up was requested. In fact he was so focused on trying to appear alert that when his jug was lifted from his grasp and replaced with a full one he nearly dropped the new one in surprise.

Wide eyes gazed at him from an incredibly pretty face, the woman's smile warm beneath the blue head-wrap that tamed her hair. It was one of Bayard's servants, and still smiling she spoke in apology.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you. I hadn't realised you were as bored as you didn't seem."

Liam flushed a little in embarrassment, coughing slightly while trying to compose himself.

"I'm not bored, it's just this is a routine I'm used to. I'm not used to being surprised like that though."

She continued to smile, mirth in her eyes, and had his heart not already belonged to Hana they he might well have been tempted by her beauty. Instead he looked back to the guests, watching for any indication he would need to move forward to fill cups again.

The woman seemed to realise his lack of _that_ kind of interest, eyeing him calculatingly before drifting away and out of the room. She had a purpose for being here, and to guarantee success she needed someone to buy her time. He was the only one placed to do so, apart of the half-wit she'd spotted earlier, but she needed someone with enough intelligence to be worth manipulating. Liam would have to do.

She walked away, retreating to where she had hidden her reason for being here. Pulling it out of its cloth wrapping, the plain and simple silver goblet glittered in the torchlight of this remote passage.

She stroked her fingers over it, contemplative of this as yet unremarkable object.

"Just wait. A little longer, and you shall become a perfect mirror of Bayard's gift for dear Arthur... And then, begins that which is to follow."

Slender hands returned the goblet to its hiding place, before she, High Priestess Nimueh, left to resume her observations. She would get her chance come morning, and a few innocent words to Hargren's manservant would assure her of that.

~(-)~

**Alaia Skyhawk: Hehehe, yep... it's her... (Evil grin)**


	50. Negotiations 'Part 2'

**Alaia Skyhawk: Hehe, writing Nimueh is fun. She does the 'play nice before smirking evilly when no one is looking' WAY better than Morgana does :D**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Merlin TV series etc, but I do own the star of this fic... LIAM!**

**Music: The Machinations of Cedric (Merlin OST)**

~(-)~

Chapter 50: Negotiations ~Part 2~

It was with a yawn and an uncharacteristic degree of reluctance that Liam opened his eyes the next morning, far more tired than usual due to yesterday's workload. It was as well most of that was over with now, but it didn't change the fact that King Bayard would be leaving again at noon. The servants among his entourage did not know exactly which guest rooms housed which guest, and as the servant who had arranged all that it was his job to show them this morning.

And that meant getting up half-an-hour earlier than usual...

He sat up and got out of bed, pulling on the clothing he'd set out for himself last night. He might as well get on with it, since things would be back to normal tomorrow. He'd return to his usual routine of collecting, sorting, and dealing with reports, and Lord Hargren would probably give him an extra morning off to make up for all the stress of yesterday. Yes, that would be something to look forward to.

He left his room and made his way down the narrow spiral stairs at the far end of the hall outside, descending all the way to the ground floor and heading to the spare rooms where Bayard's servants had been placed. He then went along them and thumped on the door of each one, calling out loudly to the occupants within.

"Time to get up! All of you are to gather in the servant's dining hall you were shown last night! Don't dawdle!"

He sighed after thumping the last door, not being fond of yelling out blunt orders like that, but in this case it was speed versus courtesy. Had he gone along them nice and polite it would have taken him five times as long.

They were soon all gathered in the requested chamber, all of them given a quick but hearty breakfast before the chief of the manor staff called them over. As he gave orders for the personal servants to follow Liam, and the rest to follow him, the woman from last night wove her way through the group and lay a gentle touch of a hand on one young man's shoulder and whispering into his ear. That man followed the regular servants out, the woman remaining with the ones who served specific masters. She smiled at Liam when he noticed her, but just as last night he didn't respond to her flirting... Just as well for her plans that she didn't need him to.

That much smaller group followed Liam up to the nobles' wing, filtering off one-by-one as he pointed out where each knight and noble were situated. He wasn't really paying attention to who was left when he reached the last room, that belonging to the visiting king, and so when he turned around he couldn't help but take a step back in surprise.

The woman from last night smiled at him in amusement, laughing a little.

"You seem surprised? Yes, I am King Bayard's personal servant. My name is Kara, since I didn't get the chance to introduce myself last night."

Liam found himself staring down at her offered hand, before reaching out and shaking it. Women didn't usually directly serve men...

"I'm Liam, one of Lord Hargren's personal servants. I'm in charge of helping him with administration. Fyren takes care of his meals and his chambers."

She continued to smile brightly, the ease she radiated making him relax. Her voice had the same effect, lulling him into acceptance of her words and making his thoughts of her incongruous statement fade from his mind.

"You must be quite the trusted young man, to hold such a position. Could you perhaps spare the time and use that to help me? I need to prepare my king's gift for King Uther and his son, for I fear they may have tarnished during the journey, but my lord guards them zealously. I fear I won't have time to clean them both before we depart for Camelot. Could you buy me some time, once he comes out from his chambers to share breakfast with your lord?"

Liam blinked, slightly dazed. She seemed like a nice person, and she just wanted some time to make sure the gifts were perfect, so why not?

He smiled, happily agreeing.

"I'll suggest to Lord Hargren that your king be shown where Ulwin trains its fine horses. It'll keep them both occupied for at least a couple of hours after they dine. Will that be long enough?"

Kara smiled sweetly.

"That will be more than enough... Thank you. I won't forget the help you've given me."

Liam walk away, Kara's smile turning victorious. She entered King Bayard's guest room, a few arcane words cast over him ensuring he would garb himself and believe his servant had helped him. She then exited the chamber, checking no one else was nearby before hurrying away to retrieve her plain silver cup. By the time she returned, the king had dressed himself and left, meaning she would now have two uninterrupted hours to see her work here done.

Checking among Bayard's possessions, she located the large ornate box she was looking for. Inside it were two silver goblets, the smaller of which she picked up with a smile. This was far too easy.

~(-)~

The two servants followed behind their lord and his guest, the image of how those in service to a lord were expected to behave. This was the boring part of the job, pretending that neither of them were anything unusual when both of them were right at the heart of a conspiracy.

Fyren fought back a yawn, resisting the urge to fidget while they trailed the two noblemen, before directing a sidelong glance at Liam

"Given that this will delay Bayard leaving for Camelot when he was supposed to leave at noon, I'd have said this was a bad idea. But the look on his face, and how impressed he is by our lord's horses and facilities, I have to say... Nice call. I think you just put yet another feather into Ulwin's cap. Our reputation for fine horses and fine trade will be even better after this."

Liam smiled a little, knowing that Fyren didn't give compliments like that unless he meant them.

"It just seemed like a good idea. In terms of value, the horses are Ulwin's biggest export, even if only a few of them ever go beyond Camelot's borders. If we can get King Bayard really interested in them, it might mean trade contracts to supply them later once Mercia is officially Camelot's ally."

"Which will mean more money for Hargren to spend on the border defences... and more he can siphon off for the side-projects. I'm impressed."

Liam flushed, feeling a little guilty. It was true he'd thought of those angles after suggesting this tour to Lord Hargren, but they hadn't been his reason for doing so. Accepting credit for a lucky fringe benefit of a lie, albeit a small lie, didn't quite sit right with him.

Hargren and King Bayard came to a stop at the edge of one of the training pens, a gesture to a nearby horse-trainer telling them to bring one out and show off its paces for the guest. The boredom became too much at that point for Fyren, who discretely slipped away and left Liam to his fate. In the end he too pretended to go off and deal with a task, by seeking out Yale so he could go talk to King Bayard as Ulwin's expert on the horses. He then remained by one of the stables, sat on a crate to continue his waiting.

It was for that reason he almost jumped in fright when a hand touched his shoulder, Kara smiling at his reaction when he stood up.

"Did you get the gifts cleaned up?"

She nodded, still smiling.

"I just came by to thank you. It wouldn't be courteous for me to ask for help and then not show my gratitude for it. You've done me a great favour, Liam."

Liam glanced over to where Hargren and Bayard were now talking to Yale, it looked like they might be at it for a while.

"I'm sure your master will appreciate it. He seems a good man."

"Yes, it will be a shame to see him fall when the time comes..."

"Huh?"

Liam stared at her in reaction to that, but was beguiled back into acceptance when she renewed her smile.

"Thank you again, Liam."

She turned and walked away, slipping out of sight behind one of the stables. Once there she pulled out the cup concealed beneath her cloak, a cup that was now a perfect replica of the one in Bayard's guest room. The sweet smile then changed to one of malice, winds swirling around her when the words of a spell passed her lips. The trap was set, and the lingering magic cast over Liam would keep him unsuspecting of her disappearance so he would not raise any alarm. For now she had work to do back at her cave. Only then would she slip back in among the King of Mercia's procession.

Three hours later, with their baggage repacked into the carts, Bayard and his people rode out of Ulwin to resume their trip to Camelot. Liam craned his neck trying to spot Kara among them, wanting to wave her farewell on her journey, but it seemed there were too many in too muddled a line to spot her.

Fyren noticed Liam's actions, nudging him in the ribs to make him stop fidgeting.

"Who are you looking for?"

Liam glanced at him, his gaze then trying one last time to spot the one he looked for.

"Kara, King Bayard's personal servant. She seemed like a nice person, and I wanted to see her off."

Fyren frowned, puzzled.

"...But nobility never have a woman serve a man, or a man serve a woman..."

"Hmm, really?"

The carefree way Liam said it set off alarm bells for the other servant, who dissembled and changed the subject.

"Uh, never mind. You stay here and make sure no one gets wedged in the gates... You know how that can happen when too many horses try to pass through at the same time."

"Yeah, I will."

"And watch out for the white one that walks backwards."

"Sure."

That convinced him, that Liam had taken a blatant joke as if it were serious. Backing away, Fyren turned and gave Lord Hargren a meaningful glance as he headed into the manor. The lord took the hint, following after him and falling into step once they'd reached the inner hallways around the study.

"What is it, Fyren?"

The red-head frowned, his expression grim.

"I think we've been played... Bayard's been manipulated into stopping here, so that someone could slip in and do something, and I think that someone used Liam... He knows as well as I do, that women are _never_ the personal servants of men of the nobility, yet for some reason he thinks a woman by the name of 'Kara' was Bayard's servant. He's acting like he's had a haze charm cast on him. I told him a joke and he took it seriously, when it's one he's heard me say a _dozen _times. He normally elbows me when I mention the 'white horse that walks backwards'."

Hargren stopped in his tracks. There had been an intruder right under their noses?

"But to pull off such a deception would require more than just convincing one servant, it would mean..."

Fyren nodded.

"Using magic to beguile not only Bayard, but his _entire_ entourage. This is work of a master of the Old Magic... We need to warn our spies in Camelot. I fear whoever it is might be going after Arthur."

Hargren cursed, setting off for his study at a pace just shy of running.

"I'll send Timothe, immediately. If he rides hard he can get there well before Bayard, and warn Georg to watch for that 'Kara'. About our only advantage right now, will be I doubt that sorceress will have expected someone to notice so quick."

Fyren grimaced.

"We just have to hope that lets us make a difference. I just wish I'd paid more attention. Liam was fine when I left him at the training yards, so she must have deepened the spell on him some time after that so he'd not realise he'd been used. He's not going to be happy when that charm wears off, especially if we find out something happens during Bayard's visit to Camelot because of it."

Both of them frowned at that thought, knowing Liam all too well. If something irreversible happened because he'd been fooled, he'd blame himself. It had taken years to build his confidence to the levels he had now, and this could prove a serious setback.

Something hard to accept for a lord who had raised him like a second son, and a servant who saw him like a younger brother.

~(-)~

**Alaia Skyhawk: Hmm, I dunno this one seems a bit rushed to me yet I can't really do much with the events than what I did without dragging them out. (sighs) I guess I'll just leave this one as is.**


	51. Negotiations 'Part 3'

**Alaia Skyhawk: This will be the last update on this fic until I reach "Lancelot" in A Question of Destiny. When I do, both fics will update together for 3 chapters.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Merlin TV series etc, but I do own the star of this fic... LIAM!**

**Music: Breaking the Spell, Avalon (Merlin OST)**

~(-)~

Chapter 51: Negotiations ~Part 3~

The horse pounded down the road, following the track as it wove through the band of dense forest surrounding the City of Camelot, continuing to do so even when that span was passed and it reached the broken woodlands and fields closer to the city. Its breath was ragged, great snorting gusts of air coming out with each grunt of effort, its rider urging it onwards with a single ancient word.

"_Aheardian! Aheardian!_"

Timothe gave the horse the command to endure, the creature obeying despite its exhaustion. Ulwin's horses, trained to be nigh fearless in the face of magic, were also trained to respond to that word. Once heard, they would obey every order given to them... This horse would keep running until it collapsed at its dying breath if he told it to, but for the distance involved, with luck he wouldn't have to.

Gritting his teeth, he narrowed his eyes at the sight of the castle turrets coming into view. Proceeding a short distance further, seeing a distinct pair of rocks to his left, he then sent the horse off the road careening into the woodland beside it. It might have seemed insane, but he was trusting the horse and not his own eyes. He'd been told the landmarks to find the Oristalla Clan's watchman, told how to find the tiny stretch of hidden trail he was not able to see.

The horse could though, steering clear of the treacherous ground either side of it. He allowed it to slow its pace, its breathing still laboured but starting to ease, letting it lead the way until he saw the final landmark.

Timothe brought the horse to a stop, tying it to a tree so it couldn't go to the nearby stream. He could not let it drink until it had regained its breath and cooled down. To do so, to allow it water that was cold while in that condition, he might as well draw his sword and kill it now for it would likely bear the same result.

Leaving his mount where it was, Timothe approached the centre of the clearing, his eyes gazing at the arch of climbing ivy strung between two trees either side of the stream. That natural arch was the landmark, and he knew the watchman would not reveal themselves until he proved he was an ally.

"I am a messenger from Lord Hargren, and I come for the sake of the bright future of Camelot."

His words faded into silence, faded among the sounds of birdsong and wind. For several tense moments nothing happened, until a robed figure stepped into sight as if from nowhere.

They regarded him solemnly, nodding once before speaking.

"For the bright future of Camelot, I would hear your message. Speak."

Timothe faced the druid, his expression grim.

"There has been an intruder within the manor at Ulwin, an intruder posing as a maidservant of King Bayard. We know not for what reason, only that she must be a powerful sorceress to have beguiled so many in her treachery. We fear she may be seeking to harm Prince Arthur, by using the same means to enter Camelot and get close to him. Have you any way to signal Georg, and get this message to him? He must be warned to be on guard for a maidservant going by the name 'Kara'."

The druid was frowning, remaining silent before lifting his face to the wind.

"_Gepyll abirest me fnaest!_ ...My lady, a messenger from Hargren bears a request for me. Does Gallye permit me to proceed?" There was utter silence, Timothe frowning in confusion, tense minutes passing while the druid man remained unmoving. And then, as suddenly as he had gone silent, he faced the guardsman before him and spoke. "I have been given permission to pass on your message. You may remain here and rest, and leave at your own discretion. Your task is done."

He turned to walk away, Timothe calling out after him.

"So you have a way to call Georg out here?"

The man looked back, smiling slightly from within his hood.

"No, but I can get the message to him. You can trust in that."

He left Timothe standing there, hurrying away through the trees until he reached the small cave that was his shelter. Taking a leaf out of Nellan's book, he swiftly removed his druid robes and replaced them with clothing of the commonest sort seen in the city. He then picked up a carry-frame stacked with fallen wood, the sort the poorest people would gather for their fires, and made his way to the road into the city.

Keeping his head lowered, but not too low, he carried his burden unnoted through the city gates, making his way to a certain house in the lower town. He entered it, unloading the frame into a basket by the hearth within, and then settled down to wait for the first of the evening bells to ring.

Ring it did at the appointed time, the front door of the house opening a short while later. The black-haired women who entered paused when she saw him, before frowning slightly in concern.

"You have a message for us?"

The druid man nodded, picking up his now empty frame and shouldering it once again.

"I do, Catherine. Lord Hargren warns to beware of a false maidservant, Kara, among those accompanying King Bayard upon his imminent visit here. She beguiles those around her with sorcery, and it is feared she may seek to harm the prince. Be on guard."

He walked out of the house, to leave the city the same way he came in. As for Catherine, she was already resolved, returning to the castle in the guise of having left something behind, so she could pass the message to Georg.

~(-)~

Servants came in and out of the laundry rooms, most with tabards of Camelot scarlet, but a few with Mercian sapphire. King Bayard had arrived mid-morning as expected, a day late due to his detour, but otherwise as planned. Tonight he and Uther would sign the treaty, meaning if foul play were plotted, it would have to happen before then.

Catherine watched as she dealt with her duties, using open smiles and pleasant words to draw gossip from all who entered. By midday her first task was done, and in the guise of heading off for her allotted time to go eat, she made a detour to another scheduled matter.

She turned into the side passage where Georg waited for her, murmuring to him as she passed him without stopping.

"I've seen all the maidservants you counted when they arrived, and none of them are called Kara. No one among the servants from Mercia is aware of anything strange."

Georg nodded, turning to walk in the opposite direction to her.

"Keep listening, and report to me before the feast if you discover anything."

They went their separate ways, Georg heading out to the main passages to begin his usual patrol. Unlike the regular guards, who had set routes, as Captain he wandered where he willed... supposedly seeking to catch those who knew the patrol patterns unawares.

Truth be told, for him it was just an excuse for him to be able to spy anywhere without suspicion. For that reason alone, Lord Hargren had manipulated Uther into giving him this position. Within this castle there was no better place to set a spy.

He walked through the halls, eyes warily moving from one maid in Mercian blue to another, looking for any face different from those he had memorised. Reaching one of the open colonnades, he then spotted Prince Arthur's manservant being spoken to by the Court Physician. One of Bayard's servants was walking away from them and towards him, his eyes seeming to slide away from her face when he looked at her.

He paused as she passed him, frowning and shaking his head a little, before turning and looking down the passage she had taken. But she was already gone, disappeared deeper into the castle, the shiver that had run down his spine sending him looking for her.

Hurrying in the direction he thought she had gone, he turned and followed the passage... unaware of the woman who came out of hiding behind him... Frowning as she watched him before heading the other way.

Georg continued to search, cursing when he realised he'd lost her. He'd known what faces belonged and which ones didn't, and for some reason his eyes had been pushed aside from looking at her. The barest glimpse of a fair faced teased his mind, a face far fairer than any he knew were among Bayard's servants. She could only have been the one he'd been warned about, 'Kara'.

He kept searching, now cursing that he was but one man trying to find in a castle this size, a woman who did not want to be found. It was so easy to keep an eye on Merlin, who spent most of his days doing his duties as Arthur's manservant. Even when he'd caught the young man wandering about late ta night when he shouldn't be, he'd required little effort to keep track of. But this, this was infuriating.

He was forced to stop when the bell rang to announce the feast would start soon, forced to go take his place guarding the main entrance to main dining hall. He could not move and go inside, could not watch either of the two servants' entrances. And without physical proof he could not ask the king to arrest all of Bayard's supposed staff.

The uproar rising from within just a short while later had him bursting through the doors. Joining those who were called on to arrest Bayard and his men. That's when he saw what had happened, Prince Arthur picking up the collapsed and pale form of his manservant...

Merlin...

Georg forced himself to pay attention to the commands King Uther was giving, following the order to escort Bayard and the rest down to the dungeons. All the while though, his mind dwelt on Gaius' ward. He was supposed to watch him, to report any strange occurrences to Lord Hargren. But this... It didn't take much to realise that the sorceress must have done something with the cup for Arthur while Bayard was at Ulwin. But if she was after Arthur, why come here? She could have just left the cup and watch everything happen. And how had Merlin found out the cup was poisoned... Unless 'Kara' had told him...

Why was _Merlin _the target, and not Arthur?

He couldn't answer it, forced to grit his teeth and follow his orders. But as soon as Bayard and his people were secure, Georg headed straight for Gaius' chambers. Arriving there, he found Merlin being almost frantically tended to by the Lady Morgana's made, while Gaius looked up from the book he was referencing and frowned.

"Can I help you?"

Georg kept himself composed.

"I came to see if there might be anything I could do to help. The castle is under lock-down, but if you need supplies from the apothecary in the town I can arrange them."

Gaius shook his head, his expression grim.

"I thank you for your offer, but this is not a poison normal means can cure. The poison of the Morteus Flower has but one antidote, and Prince Arthur is already seeking permission to go seek it. Return to you duties, for I'm sure the king will call for you at some point."

Georg nodded, closing the door and descending from the tower. But his destination was not to report to the king, but rather to seek out the maid he knew would be waiting near the main gates.

"Catherine, take word to Nellan's messenger. The sorceress has struck, the goblet meant for Arthur was poisoned using the Morteus Flower, but it seems it wasn't meant for him. 'Kara' may have manipulated Merlin into drinking from it instead... She wants him dead for some reason."

She nodded, ducking into the shadows and waiting for him to distract the guards on the gate. As soon as he had their backs turned, she hurried out through them and into the city. If was a foregone conclusion that with the furore going on at the castle, Nellan's messenger would already be waiting for her at her house.

~(-)~

The two siblings sat within the tent, eyes gazing into the fire until a faint but unnatural breeze carried a voice to their ears.

"_Emrys lies gravely ill, dying, from the poison of the Morteus Flower. I fear it is _her _work. Camelot is in uproar, and King Bayard stands accused of trying to kill the prince._"

Ellyn sighed, lifting her face and murmuring quietly.

"_Gepyll abirest me fnaest..._ Do not worry, all will be as Gallye has foreseen. Trust to destiny, that all will be well."

Nellan watched her, frowning slightly and letting out a sigh.

"Was it fair not to warn them of what Gallye told us? Fair not to tell them that this is a fated point of Arthur and Merlin's path on road to founding Albion?"

Ellyn turned to her brother, unconcerned.

"Hargren may be our ally, but even he cannot know all of our secrets. Were we to tell him of Nimueh's foreseen actions, he would have made sure to thwart them... When what has occured is something we _know _is an event that _has_ to happen. Merlin and Arthur will learn an important lesson from this. Merlin, the knowledge that Arthur will risk his life for him, and Arthur, the knowledge that Merlin will do likewise for him."

Nellan remained uneasy, shifting uncomfortably.

"And what about the fact you refuse to tell even _me_ when the all of the trials that Gallye has foreseen, in Merlin and Arthur's future, approach?"

She smiled, as one might at a young and inexperienced child. Someone who as yet was not certain of their own path.

"We each cannot know our destiny, the exact path it will take. There are some things that must be left to fate, for not even _I_ have been told everything. Gallye is a force unto himself; he who sacrificed his sight in a vow to the Old Magic so that he might see the paths of others. He sees and knows what we may not, but it is also a part of his oath that he is not permitted to reveal what he sees. The only thing he is permitted is to tell us is if an event is destined, or an interference that must be stopped. To tell who will be involved in an event, and if things will go good or ill... More than that, and the Old Magic would demand his life as punishment."

Nellan sighed again, rising to his feet.

"So what am I to tell Hargren when I see him?"

His sister tilted her head, still smiling.

"Tell him that Nimueh's poison failed, and that Merlin is fine. She will not strike at him or Arthur again, for by their conclusion these events will have revealed to her their significance. She is no further threat to them."

Nellan frowned, not entirely happy. He knew his sister kept secrets, and that there were many things Gallye would tell her and no other. She was hiding something from him, and he knew she would never tell him what.

He turned to leave, heading out of the tent and into the night's darkness.

"I'll return once I've told Hargren what he needs to know. Until then, sister."

"Until then, brother, trust that all will be well."

~(-)~

**Alaia Skyhawk: If you're wondering about Gallye, he's a sort of Oracle. He sacrificed his sight for the power to view the immediate future of any individual he knows enough about, and know if what he sees is meant to happen or not. It's part of how Nellan's clan keep watch over important people involved in prophecies, and know when someone is trying to screw with the destiny of those people. So if Gallye tells them he's seen something that isn't meant to happen will happen soon, the clan can step in and prevent it. Of course the price for that ability is Gallye being blind, and that if he says too much about what he sees then it will be a breech of his vow and well... Ellyn sums up what would happen to him quite clearly.**


	52. Questions and Responsibility 'Part 1'

**Alaia Skyhawk: Parts 1 and 2 of this are actually Pre-Lancelot events, so they won't synchronise with the Question of Destiny ep until part 3.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Merlin TV series etc, but I do own the star of this fic... LIAM!**

**Music: Merlin Lost (Merlin OST)**

~(-)~

Chapter 52: Questions and Responsibility ~Part 1~

The young man sat in the chair at his small desk, head bowed in shame as he stared at the floor. All that had happened because he'd been fooled, because he was weak.

"I'm sorry, it's my fault."

Nellan regarded Liam without trace of judgement or disapproval. Instead there was only sympathy, and understanding.

"It's not your fault, Liam. She would have done the same no matter who it was she decided to use, and she is far too powerful a sorceress for you to have had chance of resisting her. Everything has turned out fine, and word I got from our watchman outside Camelot is that Bayard set off from there late yesterday to return home to Mercia. Her plot has been foiled, and all is fine."

Nellan gave Hargren a meaningful glance, a silent request in his eyes that the Lord paid heed to. Hargren looked to his manservant, his tone kindly and encouraging.

"As it's almost midday, could you go inform Fyren to delay my meal by an hour. I'm sure Nellan has things he must go do, so it is best if I speak to him now before having my noon repast."

Liam raised his head, nodding mutely and heading for the door.

"Yes, My Lord."

Both men watched him go, Nellan sighing even as he pulled one of the chairs from the side of the room and seated himself opposite the lord at the desk.

"It's going to take him a while to get his confidence back."

"Indeed, but I'm sure my wife will make sure he pulls through it." Hargren watched Nellan take his seat, his expression solemn now that they were truly free to talk. "So tell me, what really happened? You told Liam that she'd replaced Arthur's goblet and framed Bayard for the attempted poisoning, but that's not all of it, is it."

Nellan folded his arms across his chest, leaning back in his chair and anticipating the reaction his next few words would get.

"She manipulated Merlin into drinking the poison..."

Hargren lurched to his feet in horror.

"_What?_ Is he all right?"

The druid raised a hand to reassure him, speaking as Hargren slowly sank back down into his seat.

"Arthur went and successfully retrieved the antidote. Merlin is fine, and the burgeoning bond of trust between him and the prince has grown stronger having experienced this. Not only that, but these events will have taught Nimueh just who the two of them are. She will not strike at either of them again, although that is not to say she won't make other attempts against Uther directly."

Hargren let out a sigh of relief, the fright at the though of Merlin dying now fading, but his expression remained troubled.

"Might I ask just who Nimueh is? I would guess she is significant to the Old Religion, but I will admit I am not familiar with the name."

Nellan could not help a small wince as he explained.

"She is a powerful High Priestess of the Old Religion, and the guardian of the Isle of the Blessed. She presides over the Rowan Tree there, is the chosen bearer of the staff created from one of its branches, and also is responsible for guarding the Cup of Life. She has rarely been seen or heard from since the Purge, and for a time it was assumed she had been slain during it. Having survived that time of slaughter, quite likely the only thing she will seek now is revenge against Uther."

Hargren frowned.

"But surely if she is a High Priestess, she would not stoop to killing. I thought that..."

Nellan interrupted him.

"Of the followers of the Old Religion, it is only the Druids who as a whole avoid the act of killing. My clan is one of the exceptions. The Isle of the Blessed was a sanctuary, _her_ sanctuary, and Uther turned it into a graveyard... She will not baulk at violence, and there will be no reasoning with her. In hindsight, it was likely she who beset Camelot with that plague a few weeks ago. I would not put it past her to harm the innocent in order to get at him, and his celebration of twenty years since the Purge will certainly have re-ignited her anger." He rose to his feet, returning the chair to where he had got it from. "And with that I must go. There is little else I am capable of telling you, that would be of any importance. It is best I return to my clan and await when next I am needed."

Hargren nodded in acceptance.

"Thank you for coming here and informing me of the situation's outcome. You have provided me with information that I know will not be present in the report from my spies in the city, and for that I am grateful."

"I am happy to have been of help."

Nellan bowed slightly in acceptance of those thanks, before quickly making his way out of the manor and Ulwin.

Reaching the edge of the scattered woodlands, and the place where he had left his supplies and his Druid robes, he solemnly changed back into them and packed away the shirt and breeches of his disguise. There was an undeniable burden in the back of his mind, something he found hard to place. It was then he set aside his original intent, to return to the clan's camp as soon as possible. Instead he began to wander, meandering east to west to east, gradually making his way south back and forth across the border, but with no real purpose to his stride.

Days passed as he walked through groves, watched the creatures of the forest, and nights drifted by where he stared at the stars as if expecting them to tell him what it was he felt troubling him. It was over a week after reporting to Hargren before he finally accepted what it was, and knew the source of his indecision

He sat there on a stream bank, thinking about it. His clan always went to such lengths to ensure that prophecies were never interfered with, that they were permitted to follow their course, but was that right?

They'd spied on Merlin for so long, an invasion of his privacy. He'd been hunted for by Cenrid, for no reason _other_ than the prophesy, because that man sought to abuse and enslave his power. And now Gallye, who knew sufficient about Merlin now to view every event that would come before him, effectively decided for the clan whether they would leave Merlin to face things alone, or step in behind the shadows and stop certain things from reaching him.

Was it right? Was it right for them to do this? One could well argue that they were just making sure that those with less altruistic motives didn't try to change things. But still, it was making him uneasy. What if, in all their efforts, their secrets, their working from the shadows... they made a mistake and caused things to go horribly wrong?

Nellan sighed, shaking himself out from those thoughts, taking a deep breath and forcing himself to his feet. He'd been warned as a youth, learning the clan's duties and ways, that a time would come when he would question things. He'd also been told to persevere onwards, to keep going, and trust that he would get his answers. He would do that, and head home to the Forest of Ascetir with that thought to make firm his resolve. He would get his answers, one way or another. Fate always finds a way.

~(-)~

**Alaia Skyhawk: Yep, this is a Nellan-centric episode. I felt it was time in the story to delve into his character more :)**


	53. Questions and Responsibility 'Part 2'

**Alaia Skyhawk: This is going to be a good one :D**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Merlin TV series etc, but I do own the star of this fic... LIAM!**

**Music: Hunith's Letter To Gaius, Breaking the Spell (Merlin OST)**

~(-)~

Chapter 53: Questions and Responsibility ~Part 2~

The scattered belts of forest and meadows disappeared behind him with each steady stride, Nellan walking the invisible line between Cenrid's lands and those belonging to Camelot. It was a good route to walk if wishing to avoid the possible attention of either, a sort of no-man's-land where rarely people chose to remain for long, and most often battles were waged. The terrain was of rolling hills beneath their covering of grasses and trees, providing good visibility but also the means to sneak up on things.

That was what he found himself unintentionally doing, unaware of the events he was about to unwittingly set into motion.

Nellan lay down in the cover at the edge of one of the meadow areas, watching a ragged-looking band of warriors guarding what appeared to be a large covered cage on a wooden sledge, a sledge pulled by a team of six horses. It wasn't much bigger than would be needed to hold one of those horses, yet for six to be needed to pull it then it must be of far stronger and heavier construction than a standard cage of the same size... And that made him curious.

What could a band of Cenrid's hired thugs be doing with it? What was it they were transporting?

He sighed, shaking his head. It wasn't any of his business, he was a druid of the Oristalla Clan, and his role was to be an observer. He could not get involved, no matter what the contents of the cage might be.

"Move even a single muscle, druid, and I'll shoot you where you lay..." Nellan went rigid, feeling a boot nudge him in the ribs. "Get up slowly, and start walking."

He did as he was told, inwardly thanking that his robes had saved him, even as he cursed his stupidity. Of _course_ there would have been scouts, he was just lucky Cenrid was reasonably friendly towards his people, even if it was only for convenience.

He walked out into the open, hands raised in surrender, the sharp tip of a crossbow bolt nudging him in the back now and then. The sledge had come to a stop, the man in charge of its escort stepping forward when Nellan and the scout came to a stop.

The warrior scowled at the scout.

"Why didn't you just shoot him?"

"But, sir, he's a Druid. I thought we'd always been instructed to let them live."

"You aren't being paid to _think_."

Nellan bowed slightly to the man, interrupting the tirade.

"I must apologise, for it was not my intention to inconvenience you with my presence. I am merely on my way home to the Forest of Ascetir, and have no desire to become involved in your purpose here."

There it was, standard 'I'm not interested in what you're doing, and I won't tell anyone I saw you'... Well, standard for a druid at least.

The commander of the convoy narrowed his eyes, appearing to hesitate before sighing ever so slightly, and that was all the warning Nellan needed that this _wasn't_ going to be a standard encounter.

"That may be, druid, but we have orders. Any and _all _people who see us are to be killed."

He grabbed and drew his sword, with the clear intention of cutting down Nellan where he stood. And while most druids would just stand there and resign themselves to that fate, or attempt to run, refusing to hurt another even in defence... He _wasn't_ most druids.

He leapt to the side of the strike, watching the blade thud into the grass where he'd been stood.

"I think you misunderstand me. I have no interest in your business, nor seek to involve myself with it... Let me leave, or I may _make_ it my business."

That actually seemed to make them pause for a moment, a _druid_ coming out with such a blatant veiled threat? The commander seemed to think it was a bluff, because after that moment he charged Nellan again even as he gave the order.

"Kill him!"

Nellan dodged the next strike, noting the array of crossbows now aimed at him, and sighed in resignation. Ah well, there was nothing for it.

He spread his arms as if pushing the surrounding foes away.

"_Ic awierpe se graman._" Twenty men went flying in all directions, thudding down into the grass after a few yards. None of them were seriously harmed. "I won't warn you again. Continue this course of action and you _will_ regret it."

The commander lurched up from where he'd landed, glaring at man now revealed as a sorcerer.

"You're no druid! Druids never attack! _Kill him!_"

Left with no other option, Nellan sighed and pointed at him when once again the commander charged with sword held high.

"Forgive me, but I cannot permit you to kill me... _Acwele!_"

The was no outward sign of magic other than a golden glimmer in Nellan's eyes, before the commander stumbled and dropped silently to the ground... dead. The druid eyed the surrounding men, watching to gage their reaction to his killing the man, and sufficient to say it wasn't the best of reactions.

Chaos erupted around him, crossbows firing a hail of arrows that he was forced to block. Spells crushed their weapons, flung some of the men through the air to land limp and injured nearby, and all the while the horses pulling the sledge started to panic when the cage upon it began to rattle loudly.

Nellan, with a whispered spell, freed them before they could injure themselves in their fear, letting them charge away even as he turned his attention back to his attackers. Clan law stated that if any member encountered a possible threat to Camelot, to Merlin and Arthur, then they _had_ to ask for Gallye's permission before doing anything. They had to ask if it were something meant to happen, and only if it wasn't were they allowed to attack and disable the threat.

He gritted his teeth. He hadn't been given the chance to call to his sister, to ask her if Gallye approved, but through no action of his own he was already involved, and so he might as well make a thorough job of it.

His attackers all now either dead or in no state to fight, he set the front of the sledge on fire, confident that the damp grass surrounding it would stop the fire spreading beyond the vehicle. But what he didn't anticipate was the nature of the locks on the cage, the array of enchanted wax seals that bound the chains which held the door and cover in place.

A feral screech erupted from within it, the cage starting to shake ever more violently, before finally the last of the seals melted and the door was nigh flung from its hinges when the beast within launched itself to freedom.

Nellan staggered back when he saw it, eyes wide when it took to the air and then dived at him.

"_Gescildan!_"

He shuddered at the force with which the creature struck his shield, throwing a bolt of fire at it as soon as he got his bearings. It screamed in rage when the fire struck its flank, turning and flying west to get away from this man who possessed the means to harm it... Magic.

Nellan stood there panting, and staring in horror at what he'd just unleashed... It was a griffin.

He flung a hand towards where one of the panicked horses was still visible, his words almost a roar of command.

"_Tagtha do me!_"

The spell reigned in the horse, making it turn and head for him even as he ran to it. Grabbing the remainder of the sledge harness it wore, he hauled himself onto its back and sent it charging after the griffin. He had let the creature out with his carelessness, and now he would take responsibility for it... May the Old Magic have mercy, for it was heading straight for the Rillen Fortress and the town beside it.

He kicked the horse to keep it running, ignoring the wild way in which it rolled its eyes in fear, casting spells over it to stop it turning aside from the path he demanded of it. Rillen may have been a fortified settlement, but walls were nothing against a beast that could fly and could only be harmed by magic. But the griffin had the head start, the advantage and speed of flight, and all he had was an already exhausted horse who's heart could give out at any moment from terror.

When the horse did collapse after over two hours of mad running, he was forced to jump free before he could become tangled and crushed in its demise. He felt a moment of regret for its fate, but could not spare longer. Smoke marred the sky ahead of him, a plume of ill omen against a sunset the colour of blood. Reaching the edge of the fields around Rillen, he could only stand there and curse at the sight of the griffin attacking it. Screams echoed from the distance, alarm bells were ringing, and with no concern for his own safety he set off at a run towards the town.

Danger to himself, be damned, he wasn't going to stand by and watch this.

He reached the gates, entering the town which looked like the scene of a massacre. Bodies lay in the streets, and while there weren't many the savage nature of their wounds hardened his resolve. He made a direct move towards where he could see the griffin circling ready to make another dive, taking advantage of the panic.

"_Lift, fyr, eorthe, waeter! Be eow afol,_ _ic oncwealde se giw!_"

He glared at the creature with blazing golden eyes, his screamed words echoing above the cries of Rillen's populace. He felt the burn of effort from his spell, teeth clenched, seeing it strike the beast and cause it to drop from the sky. He felt a moment of relief when he saw it land in the street, smouldering, but it was short-lived when at his approach it suddenly lunged back to life and struck him.

He knew an instant of agony, the pain as he was flung into the wall of a nearby building, and then he knew only the darkness that claimed him.

~(-)~

**Alaia Skyhawk: Hehehehe, I'll go work on part two of "Lancelot" now. It'll be up in a few hours :D**


	54. Questions and Responsibility 'Part 3'

**Alaia Skyhawk: Here's part three, hehehe, I didn't keep you guys waiting too long lol. I'm posting it early since I have the day off work and I'm bored XD**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Merlin TV series etc, but I do own the star of this fic... LIAM!**

**Music: The Burdens of Duty, (Merlin OST)**

~(-)~

Chapter 54: Questions and Responsibility ~Part 3~

Smoke still rose from the smouldering remnants of some of the fires, fires started by people in their panic at the creature's attack. It was solemn thought to think most of the damage was caused by the people themselves, but it remained a fact that all the deaths lay solely at the feet of the creature.

The convoy of warriors thundered down the road towards the town, Lord Hargren at their head and his three of his most trusted allies at his side. There would be much work to do to clear this mess up and find out exactly what had happened.

They arrived in the fort at the edge of the town, one side of the main yard dominated by a row of covered bodies. Injured civilians sat here and there in clusters, women weeping and men doing their best to appear stoic in the face of their wounds... All this caused by one attacker?

Hargren turned to his men, giving the order.

"Ensure the town is secure and help put out the remaining fires. See to it the town is searched for any other victims, and then form a protective perimeter around Rillen. We cannot risk Cenrid taking advantage of this."

"Yes, Sir!"

The soldiers moved off, leaving Hargren there with his two personal servants and his physician. They too would have much to do.

Fyren walked off on his own without being ordered to, to make contact with the conspiracy supporters posted here, while Hargren went off to speak to the fortress commander. Forwin headed off to tend to the wounded, and Liam followed him carrying his supplies. Nothing else needed to be said, they each knew their duties for this.

It was not too long after Forwin had checked over the worst of the wounded that they were silently approached, Fyren giving a tiny tilt of his head to indicate they follow him. He led them out of the fort's infirmary, through the fort to an out-of-the-way room well away from the main passages.

A soldier who was a member of the conspiracy waited there for them, beside an unconscious and badly wounded man laid out on a crude mattress.

Liam's eyes went wide at the sight, and he rushed to the druid's side.

"_Nellan!_" He turned to the soldier, almost frantic. "What happened? How did he get hurt?"

The man sighed, directing his answer to Forwin rather than the young man.

"I found him inside the town walls, after I saw the creature fall from the sky. I think he tried to kill it, but didn't succeed. I can only assume it attacked him, after which it fled the town flying as though wounded." His gazed moved to the druid. "I carried him here and tended to him as best I could, but I could not place him in the infirmary. His tattoos would have revealed him as a druid."

Forwin frowned slightly, but said nothing, instead moving to and crouching down beside Nellan to begin treating him. Fyren, understanding the man's feelings at seeing a fellow druid in such a state, spoke for him.

"Return to your duties. We'll look after him from here."

"Understood."

Fyren watched him leave, before turning his attention to the physician.

"How is he?"

Forwin was already frowning, concerned by the state Nellan was in.

"He has been clawed from shoulder to navel, and has suffered a blow to the back of his head. He's fevered, and some of his wounds are showing signs of becoming infected."

Liam reached towards Nellan, hand trembling. The druid was the only one from his time with Kalem that he had left.

"Can you save him?"

Forwin sighed.

"I'll do my best. He's lucky he's a sorcerer, it's the only thing keeping him alive right now. I can stitch his wounds, apply a poultice to deal with the infection, but after that it will be down to his own strength. Now, pass me my bag."

Liam did as he was told, helping Forwin as best he could while the physician treated Nellan's wounds, and once that was done he remained in the room. Stayed there to tend him once Forwin was forced to return to the infirmary or else raise suspicions. It was now, as he had many times in the past, that Liam wished he'd had the chance to learn medicine... Anything other than to have to sit here unable to do anything except bathe the druid's fevered brow.

~(-)~

It was a number of days later when Nellan finally woke, woke from fevered delirium to peer in confusion at who he found sat beside him.

They were in different room from before, the druid now in a proper bed, and propped half-asleep in the chair beside it was Liam.

Nellan reached out a hand towards him, wincing at the pain the movement caused, placing it on the young man's knee and giving it a small shake.

"Liam... Liam, wake up."

The servant jolted awake, looking confused for a moment before his eyes widened in joy a relief.

"Nellan! You're awake!"

When the young man spontaneously hugged him, the druid couldn't help the yelp of pain. Liam quickly let go, about to apologise, but stopped by Nellan's smile.

"It's fine, no need to apologise." He looked around, trying to figure out where he was. "Where am I?"

Liam settled into his chair again, explaining.

"You're inside the Rillen Fortress. One of our supporters found you inside the town and hid you here. Lord Hargren had you moved to a better room, and told everyone that it's just me staying in here. No one's asking questions."

Nellan nodded in understanding.

"Where's the griffin?"

Liam frowned.

"The monster that attacked here? It flew away."

Nellan tried to sit up, hint of guilt in his eyes.

"I have to go after it."

Liam, pushed him back to the pillows, shaking his head. He'd been given instructions that the druid had to _rest_ once he woke up.

"You can't, you're hurt. You've been unconscious for nearly six days."

Nellan jolted upright despite Liam's efforts, his pain at the movement only intensifying the edge to his voice.

"_Six?_ Where is it?"

Liam forced him to lay down again.

"It's headed towards Camelot, and has attacked a few other villages. King Uther has put the kingdom on alert."

Nellan started to curse.

"It's my fault. Had I taken more care, then I could have killed the beast while it was still imprisoned." He looked to Liam. "I came across a band of Cenrid's men, transporting a covered cage. As a druid the laws of my people meant I had to just ignore them, but they spotted me. I fought back when their commander ordered me killed, deciding that since I was already involved I would make sure whatever they planned wouldn't happen... I let that thing out. I broke the spells that were holding it when I set fire the sledge carrying the cage."

Liam stood up.

"I have to go tell Lord Hargren."

Nellan grabbed his wrist, stopping him.

"The spell I attempted here harmed it, but the force was too spread out to slay it. Only magic can kill a griffin, something focused like a spell placed onto a weapon... Every moment I waste here, is a moment where that thing is free to kill those who have no defence at all against it."

He let go, Liam hurrying from the room.

~(-)~

"This is grim news indeed. A griffin... Uther's men stand no chance of defeating it."

Forwin walked alongside Lord Hargren, the two of them atop the fortress walls. Six days had seen Rillen regain it's feet, but it would be a while before the scars from the fires were erased.

The Lord set his hands upon the battlements, bracing himself there as he gazed out across the lands that were his responsibility.

"I've had word from Camelot. It's attacked three villages since it left Rillen. Killed dozens, injured hundreds, and seems to be following the terrain towards the mouth of the valley where Camelot is." He sighed, his expression grim. "Forwin, would it be possible for Nellan to heal himself, now that he is awake."

The physician frowned, nodding.

"With the correct materials, yes. He could get himself back to his feet within a day or so. Why do you ask?"

Hargren turned to face him.

"If he has had trouble killing it, then the chances of _Merlin _being able to are slim-to-none. Nellan knows how to slay it, and with the right tools will be able to do so. Merlin will have no idea where to even _begin_. We need Nellan to deal with this, or that beast will continue to savage the people of Camelot."

Hearing those words, the physician sighed.

"And if his determination to get up is any indication, he's more than willing to oblige." He bowed to the lord. "I'll need to requisition the herbs I require."

"Take what you need from special supplies. They are concealed among the regular items in the main storehouse, in a locked chest bearing my mark."

He passed his physician a key, Forwin nodding as he accepted it.

"I will see to it, My Lord."

He walked away, going to the garrison stores. One word of Hargren's authority got him in with a promise not to be disturbed, before he started to look for the box. It did not take long to find it, although he was hesitant about opening it. If it were ever found out that Hargren were concealing such items inside his forts it could mean disaster for all of them.

He removed what was needed from within the chest, locking it again before hiding them among the herbs and other items he collected. He then headed for the room where Nellan was hidden, knowing that while the crystals and healing totems he carried were useless for a physician who did not have magic, the druid would know what to do with them.

~(-)~

Worried hands touched his shoulder, Nellan gently shrugging them off as he limped out into the dawn light. The garrison walls around the main yard were almost deserted, only those soldiers who were members of the conspiracy there to stand guard. No one who was not a part of it would see the druid leave.

Lord Hargren frowned, gesturing to Liam to leave Nellan be, before approaching the druid.

"Are you sure you should be leaving yet? Your wounds..."

"Will heal." Nellan sighed. "I cannot delay, it would mean the deaths of more innocents. Trust me to judge my own strength, and know that I can do this. It is my responsibility to stop this thing, I who unleashed it in my carelessness. That is the way of magic, and the world." He pulled himself up into the saddle of the horse they'd prepared for him, his expression solemn. "Do you have the weapon I asked for?"

Hargren nodded, a wave to Fyren bringing the man over. The red-head handed over the weighted spear, raising his eyebrows a little.

"Just don't do anything stupid. We don't want your sister blaming us for you getting yourself killed."

Nellan let out a small laugh, one followed by a wince when the movement caused the stitches in his wounds to pull.

"She would blame me, not you. I am more than capable of getting myself in trouble, without any help from others."

He kicked the horse in the ribs, sending it charging out of the fort before anything else could be said. He would not stand there and let them say goodbyes, it would almost be like inviting ill fortune to do so. After all, if you do not say goodbye, then you have all the more reason to make sure you come back.

He did not stop to rest at all, biting his lip when the pain of his injuries would have made him cry out. Had any seen him on this desperate ride, they would have seen the almost unbelievable sight of a druid in torn and bloodied robes, charging through forest and meadow with a spear tied to his back. His people never carried weapons, only knives for daily needs and bows for hunting. A spear was a weapon he had never held before in his life.

Night was starting to fall by the time he reached the woods around Camelot, and it was now he took the spear in his grasp and held it ready. Hargren had told him where the griffin was headed, and that by this time it should be very close to the city walls. He would have to be wary of being spotted, but at the same time he needed to be prepared.

"_Befylle... Anweald aeledfyr gafeluc._"

His murmured words were barely more than a whisper, but their effect was clear. The spear in his grasp became wreathed in flames, fire that did not harm him or the horse he rode. Its flickering glow lit their path, letting him continue onwards through the forest despite the growing darkness. Now he listened only for the sounds around him, listening for the strange silence that would mean the griffin were nearby. But nothing changed, as first one hour and then two passed. No sign of that which he sought until from the distance he heard both the screeches of the beast and screams of men and battle.

He sent his horse towards them, as fast as he dared in this terrain, spotting the griffin savaging a band of knights before he yelled to get its attention.

The griffin saw the light of the spear, much like that of a torch, and with a piercing cry it abandoned the knights to take flight and chase after him. It caught up within moments, Nellan turning his horse to face it and raising the spear high. But it was then the creature seemed to recognise him, backing out of its dive with a squawk just as he threw the spear towards it.

His curse rose into the forest night, the weapon skimming beneath the griffin like a comet. He kicked his horse to chase after his weapon, the creature screeching as it flew away from him, jumping from the saddle with no concern for his wounds as soon as it came into view. He grabbed the spear and turned, ignoring his horse to run towards where once again the griffin appeared to have gone after the knights.

That was when it happened, the griffin's calls ceasing before it let out a sudden agonized shriek. Nellan scrambled to the top of the ridge, bracing himself against a tree and staring in shock at what he saw.

The griffin was dead, skewered by a lance, the man who had wielded it turning his horse to face it. But that was not what caught his eye the most, but rather the man who had exclaimed in success at the far end of the trail upon which they stood.

It was Merlin... The young warlock none of them had thought would as yet have the skills or knowledge to defeat a griffin, and yet there he stood... Victorious.

Nellan had to steady himself, feeling a moment of concern when he realised the man on the horse would have to have been blind not to seen magic being used on his lance, and yet Merlin did not look worried at all. He just smiled at the man, elated, before a groan from one of the downed knights sent him hurrying away to let the man on the horse take all the credit.

Nellan too hurried away lest he be spotted, returning to his horse and retreating to a safe distance. His clan hadn't acted to stop the griffin, which meant its release and its attack here had been meant to happen. It lifted a little of the guilt from his shoulders.

The night passed quickly for him, in the crude camp he'd set up. There was no point in making haste back to Ulwin, not with his wounds as bad as they were. He would rest here, recover for a few days, and only then would he head back.

He was sitting there mid-morning after the griffin's death, resting against a tree, eyes closed and listening to the sounds of the forest. All was peaceful, calm, tanquil... Until he heard a yell of surprise and something tumbled down the slope above him.

There was a thud and a shadow of leaves, as they landed in a tangle of limbs just a few feet away from him, scrambling to their feet before staring at him in surprise.

The surprise was mutual, for never would he have expected to come face-to-face with Merlin here and now.

~(-)~

**Alaia Skyhawk: Hehehehehehe. Well, if you want to know how this encounter plays out, you'll have to go to A Question of Destiny... It's the sub-ep that comes after "Lancelot", once I've finished that episode :D**


	55. A Matter of State 'Part 1'

**Alaia Skyhawk: Hey guys, here's the next episode. This one is an exact correspondence to the sub-ep in A Question of Destiny, which has the same name. For Arthur and Merlin's PoVs on these events, and also some scenes unique to that fic, go check it out :)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Merlin TV series etc, but I do own the star of this fic... LIAM!**

**Music: The Machinations of Cedric (Merlin OST)**

~(-)~

Chapter 55: A Matter of State ~Part 1~ (Whom History Version)

"So word has been sent to Uther?"

"Indeed, and he and the Council have discussed it. The finalised agreement should be arriving here any day now."

The lord and the druid regarded each other from either side of the table, both of them pleased with this turn of events. It had taken some clever talking with King Bayard, and a personal visit to the man no less, for Hargren to get him to start putting some firm but non-aggressive pressure on King Cenrid. Bayard was now Camelot's ally, despite Nimueh's attempt to stop it, which meant that for Cenrid, his kingdom's neighbour, to cause them trouble did not go down all that well. Pressure from him, and some sweet talking from the messengers Hargren had sent to him, had finally gotten the barbarous king to relent and start negotiations.

Nellan smiled, just as pleased. His clan had given Cenrid the final nudge, pretending to have 'become aware' of the negotiations going on and offering to be neutral intermediaries. It was something the Druids often did, being advocates of peace. They didn't normally take sides, and so Cenrid had been clueless as to the fact he was being played on three fronts and not just two.

"I've got three of my people ready and waiting at the usual place, to take the signed agreement to Cenrid. One of them is Rhia. She will be the one doing the actual exchange. The other two are her escort. Cenrid tends not to view women as a threat... Just as well he has no idea that Rhia could quite easily reduce to him to a pile of ashes." He glanced to the young man sat at the small side-desk. "You remember, Rhia, don't you, Liam?"

The servant looked up from his work, smiling ever so slightly, despite the tinge of sadness in his eyes at the memory.

"She's the one who showed Kalem how to use 'forebearne' to throw fireballs, that one time you brought her to the castle with you."

Hargren raised his eyebrows, glancing at Nellan.

"She sounds like an interesting young woman."

"She should do... She's my betrothed."

There was a moment of silence, before Liam quickly turned his attention back to his work and Hargren cleared his throat.

"I wasn't aware you were engaged to be married."

Nellan leaned back in his chair, a bit bemused.

"Neither was I until my sister informed me about it a month ago. Apparently she'd noticed I had an interest in Rhia, and both of them went behind my back to arrange it. It's common in some druid clans to find the woman doing their own matchmaking behind the scenes. We generally lead such quiet lives that it gives them something to keep themselves occupied." At his desk, Liam smothered a chuckle, Nellan turning in his chair to face him. "And you find that amusing? And what if my sister should somehow learn about your interest in a certain young woman called Hana?"

Liam choked, going white.

"You wouldn't!"

"No, but I might if you keep teasing me about Rhia."

Hargren started to laugh, looking at the both of them. There were few who could tease Liam in this fashion without the young man retreating into himself, and the druid was one of them.

"Liam, how about you go help Fyren prepare the meal for Nellan and I. We'll have it in my chambers."

The servant got to his feet, nodding.

"Yes, My Lord."

He turned and left the study, still a bit irked by the tease from Nellan. But then plenty of his close associates prodded him about Hana. He should be used to it by now.

He arrived at Hargren's chambers to find Fyren slouching in one of the chairs by the fire. The room was clean, he had no other morning chores to do, and so now he was slacking off until it was time to sort out the food.

Fyren smiled when Liam entered, waving him over to the other chair by the fire.

"So, anything interesting from Nellan?"

Liam eyed him, bemused as he sat down.

"Just more stuff about Cenrid and that accord they've been negotiating. Apparently the signed agreement should be arriving here any day now, from Camelot."

The red head began to nod. So that meant the next few days might be a bit more interesting than the past month or so of quiet. Besides the recent mess in Camelot involving the physician who was actually a sorcerer trying to kill the king, nothing much had happened since the griffin.

"Well, that means some different work for one of us."

Liam blinked.

"What do you mean?"

Fyren started to chuckle.

"For something like this, Uther will have sent a high-ranked representative. Far higher than he's sent for anything else in the time you've been here. Since Hargren has both of us, two servants, protocol dictates that representatives over a certain rank are to be tended to by one of us as a mark of Hargren's respect for them." His smile widened. "And chances are, for something this important, he's going to send _Arthur_. Sorry, Liam, but it's a high probability that _you_ are going to be the one picked because of that."

Liam stared at him, a sudden pit of dread in his stomach. Please, anyone but Prince Arthur. If the gossip among the servants about him was right, then the man was as arrogant as he was terrifying with a sword.

"Please tell me you're joking."

Fyren continued to chuckle.

"Don't worry, I'll make sure you get a nice funeral."

~(-)~

The bell tolling from the manor gates was the warning, three chimes, a pause, then three chimes... Someone on the town's main gate had raised the flag to indicate an important visitor had arrived at Ulwin.

Hargren made his way through the manor, Liam in his wake and Fyren soon to join them after also hearing the bell. This was a well known routine for them. The lord would greet whoever it was who had come, and the two servants would stand behind him looking respectful.

...Except this time one of them, unbeknownst to him, was fighting a fit of nerves.

Fyren fought to keep a straight face, suppressing chuckles at the how stiffly Liam was walking. Prince Arthur was, in many ways, the servant's worst nightmare. Tales about how he had treated Bern, were a thing of late night horror stories in the servant's dining hall. Fyren knew they were probably exaggerated a little bit, but having met Arthur himself he knew a good proportion of the gossip was right on the money. Once again he was glad he pretended to be a half-wit, it kept him out of a lot of this kind of thing.

They arrived on the manor steps and started waiting, and it wasn't long before the proud and finely armoured prince, riding in on the horse Hargren had given him, came to a stop before them.

He nodded to Hargren, who smiled and offered his hand in greeting.

"Prince Arthur, it is an honour to have you visit. I trust the trip was uneventful."

"It was quiet, and I saw nothing untoward. You have these lands well patrolled."

Fyren wanted to roll his eyes at the typical chit chat being used. Comments on travel were as common as those regarding the weather, and even as Hargren chuckled in humour he already knew what comment would be coming next... It would be the one about Tarven.

"As they should be, or my son would have something to say about that. I must apologise that I cannot stay and welcome you now, but there are things I must arrange."

Fyren wanted to roll his eyes, ignoring the conversation as Hargren began to murmur to Arthur too quiet for him to hear. After the first pleasantries, the excuse to keep Arthur occupied until Nellan's courier could be contacted and brought in overnight ready for in the morning.

Over by Hargren, Arthur nodded in agreement with whatever had been said.

"That's fine. I will take this afternoon to get myself settled, and we can proceed with the tour of horse facility tomorrow."

Fyren began to smile inwardly as Hargren turned to gesture towards him and the young man beside him. Now he would set poor Liam to look after Arthur during his stay...

"My servant, Fyren, will attend to you. He talks little, but is reliable in his work. His... debilitation means you need have no worry of indiscretions."

Fyren almost choked at that, his thoughts scrabbling through varying stages of denial and disbelief, totally oblivious to the next few words while beside him Liam was trying not to smile.

Hargren wanted _him_ to tend to Arthur?

"As I said, Fyren talks little, and rarely more than two syllables. I sent him with my son because I knew that any attempts by other competitors to bribe him into tampering with my son's armour or weapons would be pointless. He obeys only those I tell him to."

Yes, he wanted him to do it, and Fyren wanted _so_ much to tell Hargren _exactly _what he thought about all this. But until he got the man on his own it was going to be impossible... There was nothing for it, he was going to have to tend to the prince at least for now.

Hargren watched as Fyren took charge of Arthur's saddle bags and led the prince into the manor, sending Liam to take the horse to the stables. But his mind was more on Arthur than the ire he knew would be going through Fyren's head right now, wondering how much the prince had changed in the time since Merlin had first arrived in Camelot.

He turned away, striding off to the garrison to speak to one of his men there. Within fifteen minutes of Arthur's arrival, that soldier was riding out to get 'Cenrid's courier' to come into the manor. It would be interesting to see how Arthur would react to them tomorrow.

~(-)~

This was probably his worst nightmare, pretending to be a half-wit while simultaneously resisting the urge to strangle the Prince of Camelot every time the man deliberately used 'simple words' to tell him what he wanted him to do. Nellan was never going to let him hear the end of this, he knew it, but that wasn't what made this so intolerable.

It was the fact that, in another time, had Cenrid not seized control of his homelands, he would have been dining with Arthur as an honoured _guest_, not serving the pompous twit and helping him out of his armour. Armour and clothing that stank in the inevitable fashion that sweaty under-tunics and chainmail usually did after being worn constantly for the better part of two days.

"I'd like a bath, and hot food. You got that? Bath. Hot food."

Fyren forced himself to bow, with a dullard's cheerful smile on his face.

"Yes, sir."

He then turned his back and headed for the door, breaking into muted swearing as soon as the door shut and he was out of Arthur's earshot. He was halfway to the kitchens when Liam appeared in his path, the other servant grinning in amusement.

"Not so funny now, is it? You should see the look on your face."

Fyren glared at him.

"Ha ha, yes indeed, and if you make one more remark about me having to serve that unaberendlic andeaw leathdhuine! I will make sure that in the near future you suffer the biggest embarrassment you have ever suffered in your entire life. Got that?"

Liam nodded quite quickly... The only time Fyren ever referred to someone in the Old Tongue in that way, was when he was really _really_ pissed off.

"Yeah, I got it... I'm going to go get Lord Hargren's meal now."

Fyren gave him an oh so sweet smile in return.

"Good, and I'm going to do the same for our _guest_, and resist the urge to raid Forwin's supplies for a diuretic."

The two of them began walking in silence, Liam frowning slightly before glancing to the man beside him.

"Why are you so worked up by this? You weren't bothered by pretending to be an idiot in front Arthur when you saw him in Camelot a few months ago."

"Call it a reminder of what should have been... Of what Cenrid took from me when he had my entire family killed. Being a servant to Arthur, knowing that... hurts."

Silence fell again, only this time Liam put a hand on Fyren's shoulder.

"I can understand that... There are plenty of things that remind me of what I've lost, but also remind me of what I have now and will get the chance to gain one day."

There was a sigh, and the gesture was returned.

"Thanks, Liam."

"No problem."

~(-)~

**Alaia Skyhawk: Daww, cute bit at the end, but yeah Fyren has some issues in his past. For those who are wondering, he referred to Arthur as an "intolerable arrogant moron". Hehehe :)**


	56. A Matter of State 'Part 2'

**Alaia Skyhawk: Some more serious stuff in this one, but still some humour towards the end. Arthur has no clue how much he's being tested lol. This is the first time the Conspiracy has had the chance to get a real first hand impression of him since Merlin became his manservant :)**

**(Added: Ok, quick revisal of this. There's one bit at the end of the section with the horses that I wasn't sure about last night, and am now even less sure about. The events are staying the same, but I'm editing the reason for it. I'd only kept the original reason because it was from my notes, but now it's really bugging me.)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Merlin TV series etc, but I do own the star of this fic... LIAM!**

**Music: The Machinations of Cedric, The Forged Seal (Merlin OST)**

~(-)~

Chapter 56: A Matter of State ~Part 2~ (Whom History Version)

Collect Hargren's breakfast, deliver it, go collect the reports, spend all morning on said reports before being forced to dash off and prepare the lord's midday meal.

Liam sighed, all too aware now of why Hargren had lumped Fyren with Arthur. With the truce negotiation now at it's final stage, he'd dumped every administrative task possible on his other manservant to free him up to show Arthur around. It was just as well that Clara had offered to take the cleared food trays away and tidy the lord's chambers, because there was no way _he_ was going to have time to do it.

He trudged towards the kitchens, finding himself catching up to a rather unenthusiastic Fyren.

"Morning."

The red-head glanced back at him, matching pace with his fellow servant when Liam came alongside.

"Morning, and a miserable one. I _seriously_ wish I didn't have to pretend to be an idiot on front of Arthur right now, because the way he's treating me is driving me crazy. I honestly have no idea how his manservant back in Camelot puts up with him."

Liam snorted.

"Well at least you're not them. You've only got to put up with him for two more days."

"And thank the gods for that."

They walked in silence for another minute or so, nearing the kitchens before Liam spoke again.

"So what's he like, besides treating you like the simpleton you pretend to be?"

Fyren snorted.

"Arrogant, stuck up, opinionated. You should have heard him muttering to himself when he unpacked his bags last night, _complaining _about how his manservant hadn't folded things right and now they were creased. Does he even realise that packing clothing into a saddlebag _guarantees_ they'll be creased no matter how you fold them? Anyway, I played 'helpful' and took them to be pressed at the laundry, he actually shut up for a while after that."

Liam cringed a little. Arthur truly sounded as bad as the manor gossip portrayed him. Here was to hoping he changed a bit before time came that he became king.

Next to him, Fyren could read Liam's expression. The younger man understood the privilege and rank of being Arthur's manservant, but at this point in time he would never want it. Not unless he was desperate for some sort of foothold. But considering he lived and worked here in Ulwin, and not in Camelot, that wasn't likely to become a problem he had to worry about.

Working here in Ulwin was heaven compared to some of the things the servants at Camelot endured.

They arrived at the kitchens, both of them quickly gathering trays of food and setting off in similar but separate directions. This was going to be a long day if he had to follow Arthur around all the time.

~(-)~

Papers rustled as Liam poured through his much larger than normal pile of paperwork, Hargren directing a glance of sympathy to the young man even as he was preparing the report that would be sent back to Camelot with Arthur. The whole process was a tedious and necessary one, if he did not wish to draw suspicion from Uther.

Both of them continued to write, Liam using his replica Ulwin Seal on several of the replies he was writing in his lord's stead. In fact Hargren was just starting to wonder if Fyren had gotten the message about bringing Arthur here then going to warn Yale about the inspection, when a light knock on the study door heralded it being opened and the prince pausing at the threshold to await permission to enter.

Hargren nodded to him, smiling slightly to put him at ease.

"Good morning, Prince Arthur. I trust you slept well?"

Arthur entered and approached the desk, but he saw that for a moment the prince paused in surprise when he spotted Liam, before only then making his reply.

"Yes, I slept fine. The room you provided was more than adequate."

He rose to his feet, coming around the desk and gesturing for Arthur to follow him out the door. He saw him glance at Liam again, deciding inwardly that yes, Arthur was surprised at seeing a known _servant_ carrying out such an influential role.

He led him off down the hallway outside, speaking lightly to the prince beside him. Time to see what reactions he could get from the Once and Future King, compared to those he knew he would have gotten several months ago before Merlin's arrival at Camelot.

"Fyren deals primarily with my chambers and my meals, but Liam I trained to be my assistant. He's served me for seven years, since he was twelve years old, and I let him deal with the domestic matters inside the manor. All other matters, and those domestic ones that need more authority to respond to, I deal with myself. It means I am not unnecessarily burdened by things I know I can trust him to sort out. That is why I had Fyren tend to you, and not him. I've been piling extra work onto him due to all the tasks involved in negotiating the agreement with Cenrid."

There was honest surprise in Arthur's expression, his reaction fairly close to what would have been expected previous.

"You allow a _servant_ to have such authority?"

Hargren felt a touch of amusement, and decided to see if giving a suitable reason would make a difference.

"And I ask you, how is entrusting such things to a man I have _personally_ trained for the role, any worse than handing it to a nobleman whom I know only the barest information about?" He glanced at Arthur. "When someone has the skills, they should be respected for them, be they a noble or not. Why else do you think I have been able to have Ulwin prosper so well, when it has been harassed by Cenrid's forces on a regular basis for twelve years? The people of my town know I will respect hard work and loyalty, and respond accordingly with trust."

Arthur's expression became thoughtful as he began to nod. The reasoning had made sense to him at least, so that was one small change. A few months ago and he might have stubbornly insisted otherwise. Although it seemed by his following words that there were still some small doubts.

"Although I wonder what the nobles who live here think. What are _their_ opinions of having a servant decide things that affect them inside the estate?"

Ah, the concern about not offending his fellow nobles. That was something he would have to grow out of if he wanted to be a great king. But still, maybe a touch of irony would change his reaction a little.

"They have none... because they don't know about it." Arthur spluttered and then coughed in reaction to that, Hargren starting to smile. Yes, that got a reaction. "The diplomacy of ommitance is a powerful tool in getting the right people doing the right jobs, where they will benefit Ulwin the best but without offending anyone. I see no value in pandering to the pride of those nobles who reside in Ulwin, who leech off of the hard work of the commoner's who serve them. I give respect where is it _earned_, Prince Arthur, and that applies to the nobility as well as the commoners. I will not accept foul play of any kind by either, and everyone in Ulwin knows that."

Arthur went quiet for nearly a full minute, walking in silence clearly thinking those words through. And then he came out with something truly surprising.

"That seems a lot like the morals King Herwen followed. Loyalty earns respect, betrayal earns shame, and atonement earns forgiveness."

Greying eyebrows were raised in surprise, Hargren fighting not to stare in shock. Where did that come from? Uther had made sure that motto was kept out of Arthur's tutoring, having said that 'in the hand of a youth, that saying is too open to manipulation. Honourable it may be or not'. There was no way he'd have mentioned it yet, and certainly not in this context.

"That is indeed the moral I follow. I'm surprised you've heard it. You father never really agreed with it, or at least never agreed it could apply to commoners as well as nobles. I believe I've never even heard him mention it, despite the respect he held for Herwen. Where did _you_ hear it?"

Arthur hesitated briefly, before answering with a small frown.

"My... My _manservant _quoted it to me not long after he came into my service. He hales from the Village of Ealdor, in Cenrid's lands. His mother served in Herwen's household a number of years before the coup."

Hargren nodded. Ah, so that's where. If Merlin knew and believed that saying, then it went some way to explaining why he hadn't dumped his job in disgust and walked off yet. It would also explain some of the things he'd heard about from Nellan's account of his encounter with Merlin.

"It is a good moral to have. It means you can trust him to be completely loyal to you, so long as that you give reasonable loyalty in return. It must apply both ways, or it is meaningless."

"Something he persists in pushing his luck with in repeatedly pointing out in his annoying fashion."

There was definite annoyance in Arthur's tone, Hargren smiling to himself before he decided to change the subject. They were nearing the room where Rhia was waiting for them to hand over the truce agreement. Now _this_ would be the read test... How was Arthur going to react to her?

"Now, back to more important matters... I would ask that you not mention this to your father, but Cenrid was quite insistent about who he would and would not trust to deliver the signed agreement. It had to be someone he knew would be impartial, and whom Uther would not be able to send an armed guard with."

Arthur glanced at him, frowning while they came to a stop by the door of the room where Rhia was.

"What do you mean by that?"

No sense answering that, he simply knocked on the door and waited for her to open it and come out. When she did, she pointedly did not look at Arthur, and instead nodded to him instead.

"You have the item I am to deliver?"

He turned his head to indicate Arthur, whose frown deepened as he spoke.

"She's a _druid._"

Rhia regarded him calmly, her grey eyes devoid of nervousness as she regarded him coolly. It was a poise he knew from experience meant she was about to put Arthur in his place... In a diplomatic fashion of course.

"Besides certain clans, my people have a rule that forbids the killing of others. King Cenrid knows we will take no sides in this, and that Uther would certainly never seek to send an escort with one of us... He would much rather kill me." She held out a hand towards him. "The document, if you please. I would rather not linger where I am not welcome, but I will hold to my clan's agreement to act as intermediary for this exchange. Cenrid is reasonable towards my people, and leaves us be... Which is more than can be said for _Camelot_."

Hargren nodded to Arthur when the prince glanced at him, watching as he pulled a sealed scroll case from inside his jacket. Rhia accepted it, slipped it inside her robe, and then left Timothe who had been in the room with her.

Arthur waited until she was out of sight, before he spoke to the lord beside him in disbelief.

"You let a _druid_ in here? My father would be furious if he knew about this. Even if they _are _peaceful."

Hmm, so that was his initial reaction? Hargren regarded him even as he folded his arms across his chest. Despite the mention of Uther, he knew the prince would never mention Rhia to him lest he trigged the inevitable explosion of temper and rage.

"Which is why I omitted it from my report to him. Would you rather I refuse the requested courier, and leave Camelot still at war? The Druid's do not take sides."

"But they advocate the use of magic."

Now Arthur was starting to sound like a child being stubborn, and he would respond in kind. Hargren frowned at him, his tone firm.

"Her clan agreed to do this _only _because it brings an end to the fighting along the border. The Druids are also advocates of peace, and will help foster it where they can regardless of the opinions the people involved have of them. Now, I believe it is time we move on to deal with the other matter for which you are here. Fyren should have informed Chief Trainer Yale to expect us."

He strode away, forcing Arthur to follow, and noting the sudden silence from the prince. An occasional glance back revealed a _very_ thoughtful expression on Arthur's face, but thoughtful in a good way. There was no trace of denial in it, instead it looked as though he were realising that something about all that had made sense.

Interesting, that was new. A few months ago he'd still have been trying to argue, but now he instead went quiet and thought about it. What he would have given to know what the prince was thinking right now.

He led the way to the horse training facility, a large area within the estate walls where fenced pastures housed their breeding herd and the animals that were being trained. The meeting with Yale went fairly smoothly, with only one small reminder of Herwen's moral needed to correct an indignant moment from the prince. But it seemed Arthur soon let that slide, instead becoming thoroughly involved in a discussion about each of the fifteen horses he was being shown, which were destined for the Knights of Camelot.

Hargren left him to it, walking a short distance away to enjoy a moment of quiet. Yes, he could see it already that Arthur had begun to change, but he was still a long way from being the kind of king he was prophesied to be. It was like comparing a petulant teenager with the potential to be reasoned with, to a wise and benevolent sage who accepted the truth that was before him.

He was still dwelling on those thoughts when a familiar man approached him. Nellan having long since ceased to limp, even if Forwin had insisted, with Ellyn's blessing, that the druid stay in Ulwin until his wounds were fully healed. A query from him about why he hadn't healed them totally with magic, had gained a lecture from his physician about the follies of abusing that kind of magic. If a person resorted to healing all their wounds with magic, their body would eventually forget how to repair itself on its own. Potentially fatal if you happen to be even mildly injured without a magical healer near, for you could bleed to death from a simple shallow cut because your body had forgotten how to clot the blood and stop it on its own.

A sobering thought.

The druid stopped beside him, unremarkable in his regular shirt and breeches, even if the bandages still protecting the mostly healed scars across his chest were visible at the collar.

"I've just got word from my watchmen, the one assigned to follow Merlin whenever he leaves Camelot. He's here, in Ulwin. He followed Prince Arthur, but is keeping his distance, so I would guess he was in fact told to stay behind. He's at the inn right now, looking a bit sorry for himself." He chuckled. "He apparently tripped head first into a _tree _this morning, and has quite the bruise. I'd go speak to him myself, but he knows my face and it wouldn't be wise to risk him connecting me with you. Also, Rhia is on her way with two others from my clan. They will reach Cenrid's men and deliver the truce agreement by nightfall."

Hargren blinked in surprise, before gesturing to where Fyren was slacking off nearby having delivered the message to Yale, causing the young man to walk over.

As soon as he came to a stop alongside them, he spoke to him in a quiet murmur.

"Arthur's _protector_ has followed him to Ulwin. Go to the inn, and speak with him. If he queries how you knew he was there, tell him that someone in town, from Camelot, recognised him. Reassure him that Arthur is safe here, and that while his loyalty and concern for his master are admirable, it would be best if the prince isn't aware he's been followed."

Fyren nodded, starting to grin... So it looked like his day wouldn't be boring after all.

"Yes, My Lord. And am I permitted to 'be myself', or do you want me to do my usual?"

Nellan spoke, after glancing at Hargren. "I think you can drop that act with him now, it certainly won't hurt considering he uses a similar one himself. I can vouch from having spoken to him now, that he'll react to the message better that way."

When Fyren looked to Hargren for permission, the lord nodded and sent him on his way. That was when Nellan moved closer, lowering his voice.

"Hargren, I have other news as well. The sorcerer who was using magic to steal from the people in town, he's been caught. His crimes are known, 'pardoning' him won't be possible."

Hargren regarded him with a frown and a resigned sigh.

"I'll deal with it later."

Nellan shook his head.

"Not possible, he caused a real mess when they arrested him, almost set fire to several houses. Tarven has already had the execution pennant raised. Arthur needs to come witness it. If you hide it from him you'll never prove that 'Ulwin is serious about upholding his father's law'."

Hargren bowed his head in regret for a moment.

"And so I must let another walk into the arms of death on my orders. How many more must I watch die before this is over?"

The druid snorted quietly.

"You might as well ask how long is a piece of yarn, Hargren. There is no telling how soon or distant it will be before events lead to Arthur ascending to the throne and changing things... I'll ensure that the man being executed today goes peacefully... He won't even be aware of being led to the block. Of that, I _promise _you."

Hargren sighed, nodding in acceptance. Being from a clan specialising in vision magics, Nellan was more than capable of convincing that unfortunate sorcerer that he was somewhere far away, in a peaceful place. His last moments would be a contented dream.

He dismissed Nellan with a gesture of his hand, the druid hurrying away to go prepare the prisoner while he walked back over to Arthur and break up the conversation he was having with Yale.

"I'm sorry to interrupt this, but I'm afraid something has come up. There has been a sorcerer working inside Ulwin the past week, using magic to break into warehouses and steal things. I have just been informed that he has been caught, and that the executioner is ready... As the son of Camelot's king, it would be appropriate for you to witness this on his behalf."

Arthur's contented expression changed to a slight frown, his entire demeanour becoming tense before he nodded and followed Hargren out of the horse facility. He looked uncomfortable, and at this moment Hargren truly regretted this. Uther had made his son watch many executions in the past, but that did not make it any easier to witness this one. He hated being helpless like this, but in the face of so many witnesses, and the damage caused, this man was not one that could'd be spared.

And he wasn't the only one who disliked the executions, Nellan hated them far more. It was pointless waste of life, and he was scrabbling at ways to at least make this end peaceful. He wouldn't deny the druid that, not when it also eased _his_ burden of regret.

~(-)~

Being 'Hargren's half-wit' definitely had it's advantages, it meant he could careen through the middle of the town like an idiot and no one gave him a second glance so long as he had a stupid grin on his face.

Fyren was making a direct line for the inn, which luckily was fairly close to the manor gates. Who would have thought that Merlin would actually _follow_ Arthur, when it was obvious he must have been ordered to stay behind. He had to say this much, the warlock had chosen to protect the prince, and he was definitely taking the idea seriously.

...But also had realised that in this case it was unnecessary.

Fyren peeked through the rear door of the inn's common room, quickly spotting Merlin where he sat looking bored and depressed. It was that kind of frown that just said 'why the hell did I come here?'

Suppressing a chuckle, and putting on his best 'dumb cheerful' expression, Fyren went over to his table, stopped by him, and tugged on his sleeve.

The warlock blinked at him when he looked up, clearly recognising him from his visit to Camelot a few months ago.

"Um, can I help you?"

Fyren tilted his head, blinking in a childlike fashion while inwardly chuckling, before grabbing Merlin's arm and tugging him out of the common room and into the rear yard like a dog dragging its reluctant master at a reckless pace that had the latter stumbling. No one gave him a second glance for the stupidity of it, after all that was what he was supposed to be, stupid. But he could see it dawning on Merlin that something was up when he backed him against a wall in a secluded corner out in the yard, letting the idiocy vanish from his smile

Fyren let his grin become genuine, a wicked glint in his eyes.

"Hello again, Merlin. As you may remember, I'm Fyren. I'm one of Lord Hargren's manservants. I've been sent to let you know, that while your loyalty is admirable, you didn't really need to follow Prince Arthur here."

Merlin's thoughts were written all over his face. He'd asked someone who _wasn't_ a half-wit to help him steal a statue?

"You remember me?"

Fyren began to chuckle. Yep, that was what he was thinking.

"Heh, I only play dumb when it suits me... Whatever did you do with that dog statue I helped you 'borrow'?"

Merlin immediately began to splutter, going white as a sheet before gesturing wildly with his hands in defence.

"I didn't steal it, I swear! I put it back... and it's... complicated."

Complicated? Fyren could suppose that was _one_ way of putting it... Magic does tend to complicate things when it could get you a one-way trip to headsman's block. His grin widened, as he continued to be amused.

"If that's how you want it. We have a lot of people up in the manor who have been to Camelot recently. A couple of them recognised you when you rode into town this morning."

A tone of dread.

"Does Arthur know I'm here?"

He shook his head, giving the poor panicking Merlin at least _some_ reprieve.

"No, he doesn't, and it's going to stay that way." He frowned a little leaned in to take a closer look at the scrape and bruise on Merlin's head. It looked like it needed cleaning, and that immediately made up his mind. "It wasn't part of my instructions, but I think that should be looked at. The prince will question how you got it as it is, without risking it becoming infected. Come with me."

He grabbed Merlin by the arm again and towed out of the inn's yard, pasting a dullard grin on his face as he dragged him down the street in the direction of the manor. He was going to take him straight to Forwin, get him cleaned up, and then get him out of here before Arthur found out.

~(-)~

**Alaia Skyhawk: lol at Fyren teasing Merlin, and poor Hargren and Nellan, angsting a bit over that sorcerer thief being about to be executed. Neither of them are happy about that, but too many people saw him breaking the law, so he can't conveniently vanish without questions being raised.**


	57. A Matter of State 'Part 3'

**Alaia Skyhawk: I made a major revision to part of chapter 56, so if you were one of the 72 people who read it during the first 6 1/2 hours or so after it was posted, you'll probably want to re-read the section of conversation between Hargren and Nellan. I'd kept the whole "use the execution to test Arthur" thing because it had been in my notes for a long time, but even when I posted it I wasn't sure it fit with the personalities of those two and the morals of the Conspiracy in general, so I changed it when I got up in the morning. The event of the execution is staying, because otherwise it would have meant cutting out an interesting internal debate of Merlin's in the corresponding part 3 of this in A Question of Destiny, but I totally changed the reason for Arthur being there to watch it. Now it's just for protocol, he's in Ulwin so as Prince of Camelot he's expected to witness it on Uther's behalf.**

**Yeah, waking up in the morning thinking "Why the hell did I post that?", doesn't feel that great. I feel better about it now that it's fixed :)**

**Also, note, I didn't cover the dining scene in this one, because it was so freaking heavy on major dialogue that I wouldn't have been able to summarise it from Hargren's PoV without wrecking it. I figure anyone who's reading this will be reading A Question of Destiny anyway, so you'll see how it went in that one... 6916 words long that chapter was on there... (Sweatdrops)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Merlin TV series etc, but I do own the star of this fic... LIAM!**

**Music: The Burdens of Duty, The Forged Seal (Merlin OST)**

~(-)~

Chapter 57: A Matter of State ~Part 3~ (Whom History Version)

This was certainly more interesting than following Arthur around, and it was nice to have someone new to talk to who knew he wasn't an idiot. Liam, Hargren, Jancine, Clara, Timothe, and Forwin, they were the main people who knew, and who he could have long periods of contact with without drawing attention. But unfortunately, the only one of those he could have idle chat with was Liam, and he wasn't a massively talkative type. Merlin, on the other hand, was.

"Fyren, why do you pretend to be stupid?"

Fyren heard muted question didn't other stop until he paused during a moment they were out of view of anyone. This was almost always the first question out of anyone's mouth when they first found out about it.

"People tend to say things they wouldn't otherwise, when they think you don't have the brains to understand what they're talking about. Isn't that why you do it? I can tell you're not as much of an idiot as the prince seems to think."

Merlin actually snorted at that.

"Yeah well, it's not like I did it deliberately. Taking a swing at Arthur when I didn't know who he was, getting thrown in the dungeons for it, and then ending up accidentally making a fool of myself on a few other occasions... It all adds up. I've stopped even bothering to try and change his mind now. Maybe he'll figure it out on his own eventually."

Ah the irony of it, he started to chuckle, although he kept his faked, idiotic smile in place. What were seriously the chances of that?

"I wouldn't hold your breath. I've been set to tend to him during his stay, and he's driving me crazy because he's thinks I'm 'mentally debilitated'. He speaks to me like I'm a small child. I told Lord Hargren in no uncertain terms, that if he assigns me to wait on Arthur on any future visits, then he's going to find himself with something unpleasant tucked into his bed. I agreed to the humiliation of doing this whole act thing, but only on the condition I get to speak my mind to him in private. He gets more out of this arrangement than I do. I can't even go to the _tavern_."

At this point Merlin actually started to splutter in surprise.

"Lord Hargren _knows _it's an act?"

Fyren glanced back at him, his smirk concealed a little by the shadow of the estate wall they were now right next to.

"Of course he does. Who do you think suggested it? I suppose you could call me his spy inside his own manor. I keep tabs on the nobles living here, and let him know if any of them are about to cause trouble." He started to chuckle wickedly. "You should see how they sweat when he has them hauled up to his study for a warning. They still have no clue how he keeps finding out about their little scandals. Anyway, that's why he sent _me_ to talk to you. When we got back from the tournament, I told him I thought you were smarter than Arthur gives you credit for. So I figure he also wants me to suggest you fulfil a similar role for Arthur, since most everyone in Camelot already thinks you're a twit. No offence."

"None taken, and I sort of do that anyway, but for Gaius mainly. He's the only person who really takes me seriously."

Now there was a loaded statement... Nellan confirming that Gaius knew, or at least suspected who Merlin was, meant opinions of the man were a little better now than they were before. But he was still a long way from being trusted in their books. But Merlin clearly did, and if he chose that then it was his choice.

"I'll bet." They passed through the manor gate, ignored by the guards since it was him leading the other servant. And that was when he spotted the rectangle of black cloth fluttering on a pole above the garrison walls. "Ah shit. Why now?"

"What is it?"

Merlin sounded puzzled, obviously since in Camelot they didn't use anything like the Black Pennant, and Fyren shoved him into the shadows against the wall.

"Execution pennant... Stay here, I'll be back in a minute." He hurried away, before slowing a dawdling over to a particular guard on the gate... One of the Conspiracy members. He tapped the man on the shoulder, waiting for him to play along to the usual routine before leading him into the guardhouse beside the gate. Once inside, he asked in a quiet whisper. "Who's the flag for?"

Looking furtively out the door, the guard answered.

"The sorcerer that Tarven has been chasing for the past week They caught him about an hour ago."

Fyren's next question came out as an agitated hiss.

"Why the hell wasn't postponed until _after_ Arthur had left? Hargren hates executions, there's no way he'd want to have to stand there and watch it with Arthur at his side."

The response to that was grim.

"Lord Tarven had no choice but to call an immediate execution. When they cornered that sorcerer, he tried to fight them off with magic, but he was completely reckless with it. One of the guards was inches away from being killed by a flying chunk of wood, and several houses were almost set on _fire_. With someone as clearly 'dangerous' as that, there's no way it can wait. It took all nine guards to grapple him to the ground and restrain him, and even then it was a struggle to gag him so he couldn't use any more magic."

Fyren winced, unable to argue with that one. Big messes needed quick solutions, and he sighed before starting back towards the door.

"Thanks for filling me in."

"No problem."

Pasting his act back in place, Fyren rushed back to where Merlin waited for him. Explaining to him about the man about to be executed, when the warlock asked him, didn't help the feeling of frustration inside, and it was almost a shock when a few moments after he'd finished, he heard Merlin utter almost exactly what he had been thinking.

"_Idiot_... Using magic like that is just _asking_ to be killed. Stupid, stupid, _stupid_."

Fyren had to agree with that. Magic wasn't meant for personal gain or glory, it was meant to be used for the benefit of everyone and not just yourself. It was just a pity that some sorcerers never learned that.

He continued to lead the way to Forwin's quarters, while in the distance the knell of drums had begun to sound.

~(-)~

Here he was again, standing here, about to cast death on a man he would rather have punished in some other way.

Hargren's expression was set into a grim frown, his entire body tense as the drums began to sound. There, before the raised platform on which he stood, was set the block among a layer of straw, the executioner ready there with his axe, waiting for the sorcerer now being marched towards him.

His eyes moved to take note of the three men with him, one being the guard that was leading him. The sorcerer had been blindfolded with a bag tied over his head, but other than the ropes tying his arms and the guard leading him, the only other means of securing him was that Tarven and a second 'executioner' were also in escort.

Glancing at Arthur when he heard the prince shift a little, he noticed the young man's frown and guessed it was at the lack of guards present, other than those in the escort, and the four stood around the block. He could not tell him that the second executioner, behind the man, was actually Nellan maintaining an illusion on him, but the explanation he was about to voice would be cover enough.

"The sorcerer has been gagged beneath his blindfold, in addition to having been lightly drugged, to keep him quiet and prevent a repeat of his actions when he resisted arrest... I make no spectacles of these executions. Here in Ulwin, the sight of the Black Pennant and sound of the drums is all the people need to know that an execution is being carried out... My son will deliver a formal notice to them once the body has been cleared away and buried, informing them that a sorcerer has been dealt with."

Arthur glanced to him, he seemed slightly surprised.

"No mention of the sorcerer's name?"

Hargren felt the weight of guilt he felt at this, deepen.

"To make his name so openly public, would only be a burden on his family and sow hatred. It is not for them to suffer for his actions, and so I will show due sympathy for their loss by not announcing it. The people of the town will know who was executed today, due to the arrest being witnessed, but the talk will die down quickly this way."

The guard holding the sorcerer led him the remainder of the way, Tarven and Nellan having stopped just short of reaching the straw. That was when his on turned to face him, and spoke out in a clear voice. Tarven found the execution of sorcerers far less distressing than his father did, which was why it always fell to him to give the final order.

"This man stands accused of the practice of magic and enchantments, and has hereby been witnessed using such for the acts of thievery, attempted harm of a guardsman, and the damage of several homes. By the laws of Camelot, he stands in violation of the law against magic."

Hargren took a deep breath, nodding even as he wished this could have been avoided. But what was done, was done, and this condemned man had chosen to fight back the way he did. Had he simply fled the town when first caught using magic, then this would never have come to pass.

"Then in light of the evidence, I pronounce him guilty. The penalty is death."

He did not move as Tarven turned to the executioner and raised his hand, but he did close his eyes before the axe fell. Only once he'd hear Nellan throw the cover he carried over the body did he open them again, in time to hear Arthur move and stop behind him.

"If we're done here, perhaps we could discuss the horses some more. I saw a couple of them I wouldn't mind purchasing myself."

Hargren turned to face him, still deeply frustrated by the pointless waste of a life just now, before he nodded in agreement.

"Of course. We can discuss it while you dine with me for the midday meal."

"It would be a pleasure."

The two of them headed for the garrison gate, passing through it and into the manor grounds. A servant, called over, led the prince back to his guest room to get ready for the meal, leaving the Lord of Ulwin to do likewise, except it was not small talk that was on his mind.

He entered his chambers in solemn silence, moving to where a pot full of wax tapers sat on a small side table. He lit one of them and stood it upright in a holder there, murmuring a prayer for the deceased man and standing with his head bowed until his heard the door of his chamber open and then close behind him.

A glance revealed it to be Nellan, now devoid of the executioner's hood he'd worn to hide his face during the proceedings. He seemed just as strained by it as the lord was, and he too murmured a prayer over the burning taper before sighing.

"He seemed to have some trouble with that, Hargren. Arthur... You didn't see it since your eyes were closed, but he looked away at the last moment. Even after just a few short months, Merlin is really getting through to him."

Hargren, a little surprised by that revelation, shook his head even at the irony of an event they so hated, showing them something else of how the prince had begun to change.

"Indeed. Before Merlin went to Camelot, Arthur was known to watch such executions without qualm... And now you say he looked away this time... It worries me though, that he would so willingly leave Merlin behind. He does not yet realise his servant's value, beyond the magic he does not know that Merlin possesses."

Nellan could hear the thoughtful tone to the lord's voice.

"What are you planning?"

Hargren sighed, solemn.

"Just a small nudge, to remind him of the importance of valuing more than just the nobility." He looked to the druid, eyes shadowed. "I've had enough of testing him. There is no further need of it. I've seen enough in the past few hours to be sure that they are following the road of their destiny, and that is all we need to know. So now, I want to have _my_ input on that road. Not as a member of our conspiracy, not as an observer of the prophesy, but as the Lord of Ulwin and a friend of his father's. To _teach _him a valuable lesson, that will stand him in good stead as a king."

Nellan frowned a little, speaking with a note of query.

"Are you pulling out of observing them?"

Hargren shook his head.

"No, I respect that you clan may want to continue with that, and so you will still to have my aid in that endeavour. But at the same time, it's clear now that we can trust them to do this on their own... After your encounter with Merlin, and mine here with Arthur, we'd have to be blind not to see it."

Nellan went quiet for a moment, before he then slowly began to smile.

"And now you and I are finally on the same footing, Hargren. I wondered when you would be."

Hargren turned to him, frowning.

"What do you mean?"

Nellan folded his arms across his chest, still smiling in that fashion of a teacher speaking to a student.

"My clan are observers, only acting to stop others from changing the destined paths of those they are not meant to interfere with. We protected Merlin while he was in Ealdor, in the time before his destined path began, _because_ it had not yet begun. Our hidden road remains near that village, but we are no longer using it. We no longer protect Ealdor. The only member of my clan that is near to Merlin and Arthur now is our watchman outside Camelot, and he can only observe them when they move _outside_ the city walls. Everything else he learns of, is purely from _your_ two spies."

Wait, what? Only one watchman? Hargren stared at him, confused.

"But I thought..."

Nellan shrugged.

"We have our Seer, Gallye. He tells us if something is meant to happen or not, but other than that he is bound by the vows tied to his magic. He cannot tell us much of what he sees, the Old Magic has rules, and that's one of them that applies to him."

Hargren watched the druid, as Nellan walked to stand at the hearth and look into the fire.

"So what now? Are we to sit back and do nothing else?"

Nellan's gaze did not move from those small flames remaining among the embers from the morning fire.

"You have been active still in your defence of Merlin and Arthur, but now it is time to truly be just an observer, as my clan as been. Every action you do with regards to them from this point on, must be as the Lord of Ulwin, nothing else. Can you do that? Can you act now not as their protector, but as an ally they do not yet know they have?" He turned and looked at him, serious. "I warn you, it will be difficult. There will be times when you will want to tell them what you know, but you must not. It is something they mustn't learn until the time is right."

Silence fell between them, the two men from very different backgrounds who had been brought together in an alliance seven years ago by a single young boy.

"I can accept that, but I still... do not wish to stand idly by."

Nellan came towards him, a slight smile returning to his face.

"Then why not turn your acts of protection elsewhere... and help those that suffer at Uther's hands the _most_."

~(-)~

Jars rattled, paper rustled, and a certain druid wasn't hanging around to get on his nerves.

Forwin shook his head, thinking about Nellan. Yes the man was a fellow druid, but that didn't mean he couldn't be annoying when he was bored or trying to be helpful. Yes, the man was a master of medicine both normal and magical, but Ulwin was _his_ jurisdiction and _no_ he didn't want a temporary assistant.

The book he was holding thumped when he set it down on the nearest table, Forwin grumbling to himself as he began to look through it for a specific reference. All seemed to be going so well, until the door of his workroom opened and none other than Fyren and some gawky-looking young man came in.

He glanced at the obvious contusion on the black-haired stranger's forehead, striding part of the way across the room and glaring at the red-head beside him. If Fyren was going to walk in here with a non-stupid expression on his face, then it meant the man with him knew it was an act.

"Well? What are you waiting for? Have the courtesy to say why you're here, or get out."

Fyren winced, nudging the stranger back towards the door a bit, before hurrying over, turning Forwin away from him, and muttering at a volume barely above a whisper.

"It's _him_... You know who... As in _Arthur's_ not so normal manservant. Clean him up so I can get him out of here before the dear prince finds out he's followed him." He then straightened up, looking back over to the man the physician beside him now knew was _Merlin_. "It's all right. Forwin won't tell anyone about you, since your visit here isn't 'official'."

Fyren moved himself and sat on a stool near the door, Forwin aware of Merlin staring at him before he barked in irritation. Why couldn't this morning have stayed simple, without none other than fate's destined most powerful warlock ever showing up unexpected.

"So you're Prince Arthur's manservant, eh? Which means you're also Gaius' ward." He jerked his head towards his shelves of herbs. "Come on then. I'm sure he's shown you at least the _basics _of herbs. Find me comfrey root and yarrow from among that lot, and bring them over here."

He went and set a pot of water over a burner and began to mutter to himself,while Merlin nervously went and found the items required. Once he came over with them, he set the amount needed into a mortal and pestle and ordered the warlock to grind them, shaking his head and sighing. He was pleasantly surprised to find the resulting paste was just right, so maybe Gaius really was teaching the boy more than just the magic Nellan had said the physician was pointing his ward to, not that he personally believed that. He would have to see it himself before he'd believe that Gaius had truly turned back to the side of magic.

Which was probably why he went to more than the necessary effort in treating what really was just a minor abrasion to the young man's forehead.

Merlin raised a hand to the bandage that had been wrapped around his head, blinking a little like he too had realised it was a bit overkill.

"Um, thanks."

Forwin shoved a pottery jar into the young man's grasp, having put some of the salve he'd just used into it for him.

"Apply some of that to the wound every morning and evening for the next week, and keep it covered. Follow my instructions, and you won't even be left with a mark on that pretty little face of yours. But, if you want a scar, then by all means just ignore me." He then scowled at Fyren, waving at the door irritatedly. "Go on then, out! Get him sent back where he should be, or I won't be held responsible for what happens if the prince finds out his servant followed him against orders."

Forwin watched the two of them leave, Merlin yanked to his feet and out the door by Fyren. Such a passing visit, and yet he found hope in it... Hearing about Emrys, and his already remarkable powers, tended to make you forget he was still just an inexperience young man. Seeing him, his hesitation, and the thoughtful way he seemed to analyse things, it made him far more human than the prophecies and reports tended to portray him.

Knowing that Merlin would depart soon, and in two days so too would Arthur return to the city of their destiny, Forwin went back to his work. Once the prince had gone home, things would return to normal, and that was something he was looking forward to.

~(-)~

Rain fell outside the windows, soaking the manor grounds and sending everyone who didn't need to be outside scurrying towards shelter. Arthur had ridden out early that morning, the message from Cenrid that the document had been received, carefully stowed among his saddle bags. The war with Escetia was over, or at least suspended for now. He would keep watching the border, but at the same time he became aware of the fact that he would now be able to free some if his most trusted men from guarding that border, and set them to do something else.

He sighed, moving away from the window and joining Fyren by the hearth, this being a rare evening when they sat not as lord and servant, but as two acquaintances and long-time friends. They didn't often speak much during these, it was more about just letting the burdens of the world slide from their shoulders, but tonight it seemed that Fyren wished to talk.

He glanced to the lord seated opposite him, lowering the goblet of wine from which he'd just taken a drink.

"So what had you tell Arthur that I wasn't as dumb as I pretended to be? You know, it nearly scared the life out of me when he suddenly started giving me orders in the _normal_ way when he showed up at the guest room after dining with you. Give me some warning next time."

Hargren could hear the slightly joking tone to Fyren's supposedly irritated statement, but he did not smile at it. No, he had too much on his mind for that.

"I did it because he needed to learn not to take the people who serve him at face value, but rather look for the potential they have within... Or the deceit, depending on the morals of the person in question."

He took a sip from his own measure of wine, Fyren shaking his head a little before slouching back into the cushioned chair.

"I'll give him this much, he wasn't actually that bad once he realised I could have been stooging for you and keeping tabs on him. He never thanked me for any of my work, but he stopped treating me like an idiot. It might actually start making me think he'll live up to his destiny after all."

Again no response to the joking way it had been said, until Hargren spoke in a tone that immediately had the 'servant' come to complete attention.

"...Fyrendir."

Fyren knew Hargren, knew he never called him by his true name unless it was something important. He straightened up in his seat, no longer the casual servant, but now an alert nobleman.

"What is it, Hargren?"

The lord set his cup down on the table beside his chair, eyes cast to gaze at the fire.

"I had a talk with Nellan, after the execution... I've sent orders to Georg and Catherine, that they are to cease observations of Merlin, and concentrate on keeping watch for trouble instead. Only the Crystal Clan's Seer will be monitoring him and Arthur from now on."

Fyren started to frown, rising to his feet in confusion.

"But... then what are we supposed to do now? Protecting those two has been our purpose for the last _seven years_."

Only now did Hargren look at him.

"Start looking around for someone you think could be suitable to replace you as my second manservant. There's no real rush, but keep it in mind."

There was another long pause, this time Fyren being the one to become thoughtful.

"And may I ask what you have in mind for me to do _instead _of being your manservant?"

Hargren rose to his feet, standing straight and determined to follow the new path he'd decided to set before them.

"After his conquering of your homeland, Fyrendir, I've hidden your continued existence from Cenrid for twelve years... It's time that your skills as a Knight of Escetia, were put back to work..."

~(-)~

**Alaia Skyhawk: DUN DUN DUN! Hehe, did you guys really expect me to have the Conspiracy poke around Merlin and Arthur forever? It would have been BORING after too long, lol. This was actually the last chapter with their group continuing as they have since "Led by a Child", having culminated in Nellan's face-to-face encounter with Merlin, and Hargren's words of wisdom to Arthur. So yep, the group is moving into its second phase. Turning more of their attention to helping those with magic who are persecuted within Camelot's borders... Why else would so many innocent escapees from Camelot's dungeon, or Camelot in general, never seem to get caught by the knights and soldiers always sent out after them? Hee hee... I can't wait to see how you react to what I have planned for one of my OCs, although it's still a long way in the story from being properly revealed, even if I have just revealed a tidbit of info about him (hint hint) :D**


	58. Famine 'Part 1'

**Alaia Skyhawk: I'm going to try updating this alongside Destiny from now on, one episode of each per week, since I need to get this one done before season 4 starts. I will point out though that timeline-wise, this one is now jumping ahead of the other story.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Merlin TV series etc, but I do own the OCs of this fic.**

**Music: Hunith's Letter To Gaius (Merlin OST)**

~(-)~

Chapter 58: Famine ~Part 1~

Swords clashed, the pounding of hooves thundering in the air above the clamour of shouts. Men in armour circled and charged in and out of the melee, dust rising to the wind from the packed earth within the fenced area. Numerous trainers stood along those railings, cheering the combatants on until at last only a single man remained astride his horse.

He sent his mount cantering out of the muddle of other horses, his men getting to their feet from where they'd been knocked out of saddles to land in tangled heaps on the flat of the training yard. A few grumbled, but most were smiling wryly when they removed their helmets and got their horses in hand. Few, if any of them, had ever come close to besting their commander in mounted combat, and fewer still had come close in fighting on foot. That he had won this training melee was hardly a surprise.

Off to one side, tossing his blunted practice blade to the man in charge of Ulwin's horse breeding, the man in question was chuckling. He remained so, dismounting from the gelding he rode and dropping easily to the ground. He then passed the reins to one of the horse trainers, nodding to them before facing that man.

"You've done a great job with this latest batch. The Knights of Camelot are going to be more than pleased. Screaming, yelling, clashing blades. This lot barely flicked an ear in concern at it."

Yale smiled at the compliment, watching at the man reached up to remove his helmet.

"Yes, I'm sure they will be. Although if you see a particular horse you want for your squad, remember you have only to ask. The Aering Knights take precedence over those of Camelot."

The helmet was lifted free, a sweat dampened mass of red hair exposed to the sun. Their owner shook his head to get a stray strand of it out of his eyes, before those grey orbs glanced to the Chief Trainer lit by his amusement.

"Well I've have to say that, as good as this batch of horses is, they're still not a patch on my Arlic. Set these in front of a pack of demons, and they'd try to turn. But Arlic, he'd stand there like it was a summer's day."

Waiting until the knight had ducked under the yard rail, Yale shook his head.

"You've grown cocky, Fyren, these past few months. Don't let your successes go too far to your head."

Fyren, the man once formerly disguised as a servant, wagged his finger at him while they two of them headed for his hut behind the main stable block.

"I'm not cocky, I'm 'self assured'. There's a difference." He lowered his voice a little, murmuring the next. "Consider yourself lucky, you now know more about me save than that known by Hargren and his son. Everyone else allowed into this compound knows I'm no idiot and knows I'm a trained warrior, but you are the only one who knows I am the only Knight of Escetia to have survived Cenrid's takeover. Were it not for my being here on business at that time, I would be as dead as the rest of my fellows. I owe Hargren, and when I speak with confidence it's because I know that in what I speak of I will not fail him."

The two of them felt silent for a moment, walking side-by-side around the stable. It was as they passed into its shadow that the trainer spoke again.

"I still wonder why you never returned to Escetia. Why you never fought to regain it back then."

Fyren's expression darkened.

"If you are implying I am a coward, I suggest you rephrase that. There is a difference between hiding out of fear, or concealing oneself to wait for the opportune time. Escetia's army was decimated, its Knights obliterated. One man cannot retake a kingdom alone, nor could I ask Camelot for aid. Cenrid's forces were too strong, and Uther would never have agreed to go to war when everything of the old government was dead... Hargren knew this, and stopped me rushing to my doom."

"And return for his protection, you pretended to be his fool, demeaning yourself before others."

Fyren walked back out into the sunlight, turning to face Yale.

"It was 'Fyren the common manservant' who was the fool, the half-wit who served as his lord's eyes. I am _Fyrendir_, Knight of Escetia and commander of the Aering Knights. Champion of those condemned and pursued by Uther's mad persecution of magic. I set aside my pride to help Hargren, and now I stand with it restored. But do not think that for a moment I would let my pride blind me. I would willingly play the fool again if it meant protecting that to which I have sworn my allegiance. There's more bravery in setting aside pride, than by standing puffed up like a peacock acting important and waving a sword. I am willing to wait until Cenrid brings about his own demise, because that is when the opportunity will come for the Escetia of old to rise anew."

Yale frowned, setting off again alongside the other man.

"But that could be years, _decades_ even."

There was a snort, Fyren shaking his head.

"Men like Cenrid, in the political arena... drop like _flies_ in times like these. Camelot grows strong, with a worthy prince waiting in the wings. If he wants to conquer it, he must do it before much longer, and the moment he picks the wrong ally, picks them for power to attempt this, he will seal his fate. I'd say give him five more years at the most, before just such an 'ally' strikes him down."

They arrived at the hut, the knight leading the way into what was his humble abode. A single room, with a small iron wood stove in the corner for heat. It contained little else but racks for weapons and armour, a narrow bed, and a closet for clothing. It was as drab and meagre as the home of a pauper, and yet was the home of nobleman in exile. It truly showed just how little importance Fyren placed in personal pride. He'd rather be proud of his service to the good cause, than worry over possessions and wealth.

Yale couldn't help but think that as he watched him starting to clean his weapons, observing him from the corner of his eye as he set a kettle of water onto the hot top of the stove.

"Once Cenrid is gone, Escetia will descend into chaos. What can one knight do to change that? You will have to find a king to take Cenrid's place."

Fyren smiled, looking both amused and self-assured as he replied.

"I already know of someone the people of Escetia will accept and follow, and Lord Hargren has promised me he will lend me assistance in seeing that individual take the throne when the time comes. I owe him for concealing me, just as he owes me for all I've done for him. Both of us are men who repay their debts." His smile widened. "Besides, we're friends, and that alone is reason enough for him to help me."

Further words were cut off by a chorus of shouts outside. Both of them rushed out of the hut, heading around the stable to where several trainers had gathered next to one of the wells.

Yale hurried over to them, frowning.

"What's wrong?"

One of the men turned, holding up the bucket that had just hauled from the well. He tipped it up, spilling out a plume of dust and sand.

"The well has gone dry. There's no water in it."

The chief trainer sighed.

"Then go to the well at the other end of the facility. I'll speak to Lord Hargren and see about finding out what's clogging this one."

Another voice spoke up.

"But, sir, the other well is the same. I've just come from there. Word has just come from the town, every well in Ulwin is yielding nothing but sand."

Behind Yale, Fyren didn't wait to hear anything more than that. He pulled his helmet on over his head, to hide his face from those who thought 'Hargren's half-wit' had left Ulwin, and strode out of the horse facility and into the manor itself. He headed straight for the lord's study, arriving there right on the heels of his replacement as Hargren's second servant.

The man turned to glance at him, nodding in recognition when the knight lifted his visor so he could see his face.

"Let me guess, you've come about the wells."

Fyren regarded the servant, who was a typical middle-aged man with a few strands of grey among his mousey-coloured hair. He'd recommended Tabar, another long-standing member of the conspiracy, to Hargren for this role. While he did not play the fool as Fyren had done, he was such a quiet man in public that others paid him just as little heed. He was a man of quiet words, but good advice, and he voiced that advice when needed. It made him perfect for the job.

The knight removed his helmet, safe from discovery in this secure part of the manor, nodding gravely to him.

"Both wells in the horse yards are giving nothing but sand, and I hear the rest of the town's wells are the same."

Tabar nodded grimly.

"Lord Hargren has gone to inspect them, but they aren't the only problem." He led the knight to a window, pointing to where the kitchen gardens were visible in the manor grounds. Gardens that looked sickly and ill even from this distance.

"The crops are all withering, even as we watch. Word has already been sent to Camelot. Something has cursed our lands."

~(-)~

"What are we to do? The harvest was just a week away. We've lost everything! If something isn't done, we will starve."

The emergency council were seated in the smallest of the manor dining halls, the entrance barred and only one guard present to secure that door. Hargren knew a pair of green eyes would be peering out from behind that guard's steel visor, knew that Fyren would be listening carefully to every word spoken by the four men seated at the table. Three of those men were seemingly on the verge of panic, and he would not let his concerns show lest it cause those three to lose confidence in him.

Hargren looked to the nobleman who had spoken, wishing he could have called his _other_ council to deal with this disaster. These three men, representatives selected by Uther, were little more than figureheads as far as he was concerned. It was rare for them to be involved in any of Ulwin's daily affairs, thanks to clever manipulation. If only they could have been kept out of the way this time.

He sighed ever so slightly, sorting through some of the reports he had set on the surface before him.

"I have already instated a regular convoy run between here and the river, bringing water into the town and rationing it to the people. I've also used a portion of my treasury to purchase all of the available food in the town, from all the warehouses. It too will be rationed until this crisis is over, to ensure that the poor do not suffer should the wealthy horde all the food. Do not anticipate any splendid meals in the near future, the rationing will apply to _all_."

Three sets of wide eyes stared at him, three shocked expressions, before three men registered the unflinching steely resolve in his tone. He would not move on this matter. One of those three, then spoke.

"But that still does solve the problem of the lost crops. Rationing the food we have already will last us a week, maybe two. What about when winter comes?"

Hargren pushed one document towards them.

"I have already begun preparations to send a contingent of my personal guard across the border into Mercia. They will have two tasks. Determine if this clearly magical blight affects only Camelot's lands, and to secure emergency stocks of grain to be brought back to Ulwin. Part of those stocks will be forwarded on to the capital."

"You can't do that!" The man to his right rose to his feet in protest, aghast. "Word has only just been sent to Camelot. We do not yet know if this affects the entire kingdom. And to pursue additional supplies could make Camelot look _weak_ in the eyes of our neighbours."

Hargren also rose to his feet, but far more slowly and solemnly.

"Camelot _will_ be weak if we cannot feed its people and army. If that should happen, Cenrid may breech the accord and take advantage of it, and as Lord of Ulwin and King Uther's steward of this province, I will not jeopardise the security of the eastern border." He thumped his fist on the table. "The king has entrusted me with the protection of this area, and thus in turn with the protection of the rest of the kingdom that region provides shield to. He will understand why I pursue this course of action, and I know he will trust me to do it discretely. That is why it is my _personal_ guard who go, and not those from the main army. Are there any further objections to this?"

Three sets of eyes stared at him, before three men bowed their heads. He had the measure of them well, and knew how to talk them into submission. True to form, all three nodded to him.

"We will support this course of action."

He indicated the door.

"Then leave me to finish my preparations. I cannot afford to waste further time in discussion."

The three councillors left the room, the door politely held open for them by the guard, but then that guard closed the door behind them, and removed his helmet to regard his lord.

"A pity you have to dance around those three. A full hour wasted on formality."

Hargren resumed his seat, looking tired and concerned now he did not have to maintain appearances.

"They are tedious, but necessary. The illusion of power they hold keeps the nobles here content. I trust you heard what I have planned for you."

Fyren nodded.

"You want me to go to Frithstow, and use my contacts there to buy the grain."

"Yes." Hargren sighed. "I will get the money for first carts of grain from the treasury, while you go prepare your men. The Aering Knights will be more than welcome there, and I know the people of Frithstow will be happy to help."

The two of them shared a knowing smile, before Fyren replaced his helmet and headed for the door.

"Yes, I believe they will..."

~(-)~

**Alaia Skyhawk: Bit more about Fyren, who as you can see is now commander of his own troop. More information about them in the next chapter :)**


	59. Famine 'Part 2'

**Alaia Skyhawk: Now to show some of what's been going on during the months between this and A Matter of State :)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Merlin TV series etc, but I do own the OCs of this fic.**

**Music: Undying Faith (By Two Steps from Hell)**

~(-)~

Chapter 59: Famine ~Part 2~

The young man walked into the small hut behind the stable, small wooden chest in hand and a sealed message to go with it. At the front of the stable, fifteen horses were being saddled, but here there was just one man checking his weapons one last time.

Liam was a little uneasy, still not completely familiar with this other side of Fyren. It had come as something of a shock to him to learn the man was actually a trained warrior, to learn that he was actually a nobleman from Escetia. Fyren had lost so much more than just his family, he had lost his homeland as well, and yet he still stayed strong. That balanced the uneasiness a little, balanced it with awe of his strength of will.

When he'd lost his family, and later lost Kalem, he'd practically crumbled. He didn't have anywhere near the strength the older man had.

"Fyren, I've brought the money from Lord Hargren, and the message for the leader of Frithstow."

The knight turned to face him, noting Liam's hesitation. He too was familiar with the way the friendship between them had become a little... strained since he began his new assignment.

"Liam, there's no need to act so formal with me. Please, just tease me like you used to, or _smile_ around me. My being a nobleman does not change who I am. Honestly, how many nobles do you know who would willingly act like an idiot in public, and _enjoy_ it?"

The servant stared.

"Um... Besides you, none."

He found a gloved hand slapping him on the shoulder, another taking the box from his hands. Fyren gave him one of his trademark conspiring smiles.

"Exactly." He took the letter as well, putting it inside the chest before securing the box into one of the nearby saddlebags. He then hoisted both up to his shoulder, facing Liam again. "Look, I know I've not been around much the past few months, barely a day or two here and there. But I still consider you a friend, and I want you to act like it."

Liam bowed his head a little.

"Sorry. I guess I just..."

"Needed time to get used to the idea." Fyren came a few steps closer, regarding him. "I'm the one who apologise, for hiding things, and for continuing to hide things. My being a noble only scratches the surface of who I am, but I cannot risk Cenrid finding out that I'm still alive. Those who know the full truth, like Hargren, are put in danger by that knowledge. I'm just keeping you safe, in what way I can."

He headed for the door of the hut, Liam speaking to him as he passed.

"Like how you've been protecting people who have magic? Helping them escape from Camelot." There was an edge to his voice, one that made Fyren turn. "How is going off to buy grain going to fix what's happening. The wells, the crops, this is magic powerful enough to effect the land itself, and it's been turned against us. I thought..."

Fyren started to frown, realising something.

"You're starting to doubt magic... Liam, you've _seen _the brightness that magic can bring in the right hands, you've known it yourself, from Kalem. Yes, there are people and things out there that would and have used it for evil, but you just have to trust the light will win." He sighed. "What was that dream he had? The thing he wanted to do?"

Liam bit his lip, hesitating for several seconds before answering.

"He wanted to prove that King Uther is wrong about magic, that it can be used for good." He raised his head, managing a small smile. "Sorry, I've just never seen magic like this before, and it scares me."

The knight smiled in return, understanding the way Liam felt.

"I know the feeling, but I'm sure that there's already someone out there, who uses magic for good, who is looking for a way to fix this. We just have to hold out on our own until they succeed. For all it could be, it might be Nellan... or maybe someone he knows."

Liam's smile became more assured, and he came towards him. "Thanks, Fyren." He ducked past the bulk of the saddlebags and out the door. "Try not to let all the pretty girls in Frithstow distract you, or I might start to wonder if patrols are the only thing you spend all your time on."

Fyren almost choked at that, until he realised that it was Liam's way of saying he'd accepted him as a warrior and thanked him for the reassurance. The knight watched him go, smiling to himself. Liam had always been like that, sometimes too easily shaken to doubt by events. He needed someone to inspire confidence in him, the confidence _not_ to doubt, but it seemed he still hadn't found that person yet.

He set those thoughts aside, leaving his hut and heading to where his men were now starting to mount up. Within another fifteen minutes they were riding out of town with two empty carts, driven by a pair of men from the training yards, following them.

~(-)~

A day and a half of hard riding later, found the knights and the two carts nearing a small town concealed just across the northern border. It had taken no knowledge of the trail to know when that invisible line had been crossed, for the moment the first outlying village of that kingdom had been seen in the distance it was clear their crops were still flourishing. But that settlement was not where they were headed, instead they turned off the main trail to a road made seemingly impassable by layer upon layer of illusions. Those spells made it look disused, unusable, and abandoned, which was exactly what the people in the town it led to wanted. If Uther were to learn this place was here, then he would send word to Bayard and both of them would descend upon it in wrath and flame.

Fyren blinked his eyes, annoyed by the fact they kept insisting he was about to have them clawed out by bramble thickets or hit his head on low-hanging branches. The spells here possessed none of the refinement of those used by the Druids, but then that was hardly surprising. The town ahead of them had a rather motley mixture of sorcerers and hedge-wizards living in it, and none of them were particularly skilled or powerful with magic. It was only by virtue of working together that they'd been able to do even this much to hide the place.

"We'll be in Frithstow soon. Change your capes."

All of the knights made a practised turn in their saddles, pulling off the orange-trimmed red capes of Hargren's personal guard, and replacing them with hooded cloaks of mottled browns and moss greens. From Nellan's clan, Fyren had requested some advice on mundanely vanishing from sight in forests and broken ground, and the cloaks were the result. The only bright colour on any of them was the small embroidered yellow sun on the front near the lacing at the collar, styled so that it looked as though it were rising up from a horizon. It was the symbol of his squad, the Aering Knights, for the dawn was what they were named after.

New cloaks in place, previous ones rolled up and secured to the backs of saddles, the knights rode onwards and reached the point where the illusions stopped. Within a hundred yards of that point, the town of Frithstow and its fields came into view. It was hidden in a steep-sided pocket valley, surrounded on all sides by forest, and the road was the only way in or out. The harsh terrain here was why the location had been picked, and despite the hardship the people who had been brought here over the course of the months since late spring, had striven to turn it into a thriving settlement. And that everyone here had been brought here, was reflected in the welcome they gave to the knights.

People rushed to the edge of the town, smiling and warmly greeting the men to whom they owed their lives. They were all sorcerers, the family of sorcerers, or just unfortunate people to have been accused of using or assisting with such. They were all victims of Uther's blindness, but to prevent harm coming to Camelot, all those here had sworn to repay being brought to the sanctuary that was Frithstow by never seeking revenge or harm on that kingdom. Many who had been saved had refused to make that vow, but just as many had agreed to it. Those who did, had been led here, and here they lived in peace to await the eventual return of magic to the lands.

Removing his helm and smiling to the people around him, Fyren retrieved the box of money from his saddlebag and eased his way through the crowd. A few curious glances followed him, but most remained attentive to welcoming the rest of the squad. Fyren let them, his men deserved to enjoy the thanks from these people for the risks they'd taken in helping them. There had already been times where there had been close calls, times they had almost been spotted by one of Camelot's patrols. He didn't doubt that someday they _would_ be spotted, and their mottled capes would be put to the test. Hiding a druid with one was one thing, hiding a man in full armour was another.

He crossed the town, heading for the house where the leader of the settlement lived. Many here called him The Elder, a Druidic title of leadership, but the magical background of the people here made that as no surprise. Much as the name would suggest, he was an old man with many years of experience, and he possessed a wisdom and grace of judgement to match those years.

Those elderly eyes observed Fyren when the knight entered the house after a polite knock, knowing there was a grave reason for this visit even before he had spoken.

"Come, sit, and tell me of what troubles bring you here to me."

Fyren did as he was bidden, seating himself on the chair placed the other side of the hearth from the one in which the elder sat.

"I come on behalf of Lord Hargren, to purchase grain from the town. We have two wagons with us that need to be filled, and he has sent more than sufficient money to pay for it. Further amounts of grain may be sought out in a week or so, but I believe his request for those will be that you help identify a good middleman, trader, for us to work with."

He handed over the box, watching as the old man opened it and read the letter within. The elder's expression darkened as he progressed through it, before he looked solemnly to the knight.

"We will do as asked, but I warn that it will be but a passing solution. By what your lord has written here, of the withered crops and sand-laden wells, my knowledge of old lore says that this is something that cannot be broken by normal means."

Fyren frowned a little.

"Do you know what it could be?"

The elder sighed.

"This curse, and its sheer scale, bears all the hallmarks that could mean it be but one thing. Someone in Camelot has slain a unicorn, someone highly placed. If a farmer kills a unicorn, only his own lands will be affected by the curse that results. For all of Camelot to be blighted, then it could only be the king or his son who is responsible in this case. It will be up to them, by their actions, to break it."

The knight was startled, but was able to say one thing with certainly.

"If it must be one of them, then it can only be Arthur. He is fond of hunting, and often goes out to do so. Uther never leaves the city for anything of that sort. But if it is a unicorn, then what must be done to break it?"

Old eyes remained grim.

"He will be tested by the Keeper of the Unicorns. In what way, I do not know, but if he passes those trials then the curse will be broken." Frail fingers reached out, touching the knight's gloved hand. "There is nothing you or anyone else can do to affect this. You must simply wait and pray. Time will tell if the prince brings salvation or damnation to his country."

Fyren remained almost frozen, chilled to the bone by those words. Arthur? Tested by a someone with magic? It was more likely he would try to arrest the Keeper and have him executed... Camelot was likely doomed if what was suspected was true, if it were really the death of unicorn that had caused this, and if Arthur was the one who did it.

Still shaken, he rose to his feet.

"Thank you for your council, I will make sure to pass it on to my lord. And thank you for agreeing to help with the grain."

The old man smiled.

"I will have word sent to our stores. You wagons will be filled within the hour." He watched Fyren turn, speaking again when he reached the door. "And have more faith in the prince. He may surprise you."

The elder's words remained with him on the ride back to Ulwin, echoed in his head when he and the Aering Knights arrived back at the manor. That was when he learnt of what had happened during his absence, the word from Camelot itself. A message from Georg, stating that Arthur had slain a unicorn, and word of what had been going on in Ulwin itself.

Two days after filling with sand, water had returned to the wells, but just that morning the people had awoken to find them dry again, and all the stored food that was to be rationed out had rotted overnight. The grain in the wagon was a reprieve from that, or should have been, for when the sacks were opened the golden wheat had turned to blackened and mildewed husks... And that meant only one thing.

Arthur had passed one trail, but failed the next, and now all of Camelot was damned... And in his heart Fyren found himself unsurprised by that outcome.

~(-)~

**Alaia Skyhawk: Quite a grim chapter this one. Fyren's remaining prejudice against Arthur should be clear. Yeah, he knows Arthur is the Once and Future King, but he still thinks it's too soon to expect any real changes to him yet. I guess what comes next will be a bit of a kick in the shins for him, for thinking that way XD**


	60. Famine 'Part 3'

**Alaia Skyhawk: Seems people are enjoying reading the Labyrinth of Gedref stuff from the Ulwin side. I deliberately kept Hargren and co in the dark about the cause initially, letting things filter to them while they did their own things in response to it. Liam will remain out of the loop though, just Hargren and Fyren will know the truth about the curse's cause and cure... And Nellan of course, although he doesn't show up in this one.**

**Also, apologies for the delay in updating, I was just giving myself a breather :)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Merlin TV series etc, but I do own the OCs of this fic.**

**Music: Undying Faith (Two Steps from Hell)**

~(-)~

Chapter 60: Famine ~Part 3~

Fear pervaded the town...

_'Do not abandon your kingdom, your homes, on a whim.'_

Doubt stalked the streets...

_'What future will you have as refugees?'_

The cries of hungry children haunted the air...

_'We must strive and fight for all we have built.'_

Many eyes in the crowds then lifted up to regard the speaker.

_'We must not give up at the first sign of hardship.'_

Many hearts let his words sink in, and their doubts changed to resolve.

_'To do so would mean allowing whatever force of evil is behind this, to win!'_

Someone began to cheer him, others joined them.

_'For our homes and our families, for our kingdom, we will remain strong in the face of this adversity! People of Ulwin and Camelot, will you stand with me?'_

More and more began to cheer, until the entire gathered crowd were roaring their approval, the few remaining dissenters and doubters drowned out by their voices and the lord's.

Hargren looked out over the mass of people gathered in front of the manor entrance, stood as he was on a balcony that overlooked it. He stood proudly there before them, a figurehead in which they would place their trust, but as soon as time came and he retreated inside the building and out of sight, his shoulders bowed with his burden. He had convinced most of them to stay, but he didn't doubt that if this curse persisted for more than another week, his stirring words would lose their power and the people would begin to leave anyway.

He slumped into one of the seats in the antechamber that led to the balcony, a room he rarely used, but kept as secure as the inner passages where his study and his family's chambers were located. Here was a place he and his closest allies could speak frankly, and it was one of the two guards who had attended him on the balcony who did so first.

Fyren removed the helmet of the standard armour he currently wore as a disguise, seating himself in the chair opposite the lord.

"That was well done, Hargren. To stir up such clear anti-magic sentiment, to get them to stay, can't have been easy."

The lord sighed, nodding.

"I wasn't, but it had to be done, what concerns me more is what happened to the grain you brought, and also what the Elder of Frithstow said to you."

"About the possibility of the death of a unicorn being the cause?"

Fyren regarded Hargren searchingly, it barely being two hours since he and his men had arrived back from their trip. The lord had been in the midst of preparing for the speech he'd just made, and thus had only allowed a brief report to be made to him. Now, it seemed, he was ready to give the talk more time.

He turned to the knight, solemn.

"I've been consulting with Forwin during the three days you were gone, and his analysis concurred with those of the Elder of Frithstow. But the key information arrived from Camelot yesterday, a message from Georg... Prince Arthur returned from his hunting trip with the horn of a unicorn, and it was the following day when all woke to find the wells dry and the crops withered. It seems it took a few hours to spread this far, but you have confirmed that it stops at Camelot's borders. Other than him also confirming the unease and fright among the people in the city, that Uther's message to me informed me of, there was nothing else of note. At least nothing at the time of his writing the letter."

Fyren grimaced.

"So what now? It's already obvious that Arthur has failed in the trials to break the curse. Whatever it is he has to do, it's clear we're going to have to do something to help."

"You want to know what we should do now?" Hargren shook his head slightly. "_Pray..._ Forwin explained to me what the Druids know of the unicorns and the Keeper, and the trials that must be passed to break the curse should it be cast. The only way to repay the crime of slaying a unicorn, a creature pure of heart, is for the killer to prove that they too are pure of heart."

Fyren stiffened and stared at him, before bursting into semi-maniacal laughter.

"Oh that's just great... We're doomed, all of us. Prince Arthur? Pass a test like that? Never. He has too much pride, and he lets it blind him. Merlin has barely even begun to change him, he wasn't ready for something like this yet."

Hargren's reproving tone interrupted him.

"And who are _we_ to judge that? We made a choice to cease observing him and Merlin, to let them walk their path alone and _trust_ them to do so... And that is why we must trust them now, and pray for their success." He rose to his feet, heading for the antechamber door. "It seems it is not only Liam who has doubts he must deal with. He struggles to fathom a true resolve to trust magic... Your problem is your reluctance to let go of your previous impressions of Arthur. If you believe Arthur's fault is to be blinded by pride, then yours is to be blinded by prejudice based on his past follies. You are ten years his senior, Fyrendir, of course you would have more experience than him, but that is no reason to doubt the experience he has. Give him a chance."

He exited the room, leaving a startled Fyren seated there. The knight could only watch him go, before putting his helmet back on and heading to the horse yards in search of some respite.

~(-)~

The dawn after next came grimly, even the sun seeming reluctance to shed light upon them. Clouds lay overhead, but they stubbornly refused to shed even a drop of the rain their colour indicated they carried. All through the town, few people moved about. Any effort not necessary was not made, the people conserving their energy in light of that no one had eaten more than scavenged rotten scraps during the past two days.

Fyren sat in his hut behind the main stable block in the horse yards, seated in a chair by his single low window, arm propped on the 'sil. He could see one of the paddocks from here, the horses in it happily chewing away on the grass that covered it. Most of the livestock in the town and the surrounding area had already been slaughtered and eaten, and a strong guard force had been set outside the yards to prevent anyone getting ideas of adding horse to the menu. Sale of some of the horses would pay for livestock to be replaced once this was over, _if_ that happened. He wanted to doubt it, but that would mean doubting Hargren's faith that it would end. All they had to do was hang on until that idiot of a prince somehow proved he was worth that faith.

There was a tentative knock on the door, Liam coming in. He was carrying a pitcher, one that sloshed rather less than might be hoped.

"The soldiers have brought more water from the river. I've already had my share, this is yours."

Fyren accepted the jug, gratefully downing the contents, which amounted to barely more than a cupful, before passing the jug back. He could see it again, in Liam, the doubts that Hargren had mentioned and that he himself had already seen.

"Cheer up, Liam." The servant didn't respond much to that, his mind clearly elsewhere. Fyren snorted in response. "You know, doubts like yours were what drove my father and uncle apart."

Liam jolted to the alert, surprised. Was Fyren finally going to tell him more about his past?"

"They were?"

Fyren nodded solemnly, pointing Liam to a nearby stool and waiting for him to sit before continuing.

"My uncle agreed in principle with the law against magic, that too much magic was being abused, but my father argued that it was no excuse to condemn those that used it for the benefit of others." He frowned distantly. "My uncle was the head of our family, my father would never fully revolt against him, but he expressed his disgust by practically going into exile."

"Exile?"

In response to the question, the knight sighed.

"He took us, our side of the family, home to our estate, and we stayed there. Five years after that I left and became a Knight of Escetia, to try and heal the rift, to mediate between them. But my father was adamant he would not stand alongside my uncle in support of the ban." He now sounded resigned. !I kept trying, and failing, and then I heard my uncle mention Hargren being of the same mind as my father. That he had, at the time of the Purge, tried to urge him not to go through with it. It was just a few weeks from my twentieth birthday, and that was when I made my decision, the one that ultimately saved my life."

Liam was listening intently.

"What decision?"

Fyren regarded him with a hint of lingering regret, regret that he hadn't been there to protect his loved ones even though he would likely have died with them.

"I rode here to Ulwin, anonymously, and sought audience with Hargren. I came to ask him to help my father convince my uncle, or at least bring the two of them together again. He agreed he would try, after his state visit to introduce his son to the king and Arthur. But barely a few days later word arrived declaring the fate of Escetia, shortly after Tadoras was attacked and Hargren had returned from Camelot. Cenrid had launched a coup, and slain the king. All staunch allies of the throne, like my family, were hunted down and slaughtered. I suppose I may have resented Arthur and his father for that, for delaying Hargren helping me. The route we would have taken would have allowed us to spot Cenrid's men, get a warning to the king, but we weren't there. And then to hear about how arrogant and prideful Arthur became, I guess that made me resent him more, even if I never showed or voiced it... Your doubts about magic are the same. You let the shadows block out the light."

Liam lowered his head, as though ashamed by his own weakness.

"I know, I should know better." He raised his head again. "But... But what made you stay here after it happened."

Fyren smiled.

"Hargren. I learnt an important lesson from him... and there's another one I think I'm about to learn too if he's right. But for now, I have hidden here in Ulwin, biding my time. Escetia will be free of Cenrid's clutches one day, I will make sure of it. And when it is, my homeland will welcome magic once again. That is my dream." His smile widened, becoming less forced and more optimistic. "I will never lose my faith in magic, no matter how many I see use it for darkness, just as I will never lose my will to take back that which Cenrid stole from the people of Escetia; their freedom. I want that freedom for everyone, with and without magic. That is how the world is meant to be. We are men, and magic is all of nature. Who are we to say what nature should and should not give to us?"

Liam nodded.

"Like Lord Hargren always says, we just have to trust to fate to see us down the right path." Much like six days ago, a sudden uproar outside got their attention, but this time it wasn't puzzled questions, but elated cheers. Hearing them, Liam broke into a grin and dashed out of the hut. "The water's back!"

Fyren followed him out, rushing around the side of the stables to see one of the trainers chucking a bucket of water over a scolding Yale. Impulse then had him hurry to the nearby stairway up onto the wall around the estate, to look out over the fields around the town. People were rushing out of the gates and into them, cheers echoing on the wind, even as before his very eyes he watched the crops come back to life... and he felt ashamed.

Arthur had done it, had proven himself pure of heart. Wherever he was right now, he had succeeded, something that he, Fyrendir, had thought him not yet ready to prove.

The knight snorted to himself, shaking his head. And let that be a lesson to him, that Merlin and Arthur were making their own rules. What had been done by them the past few days, he didn't know, but maybe one day he'd get the chance to sit down and talk to them, once magic had returned, and ask just how the prince had done it.

~(-)~

**Alaia Skyhawk: Very conversation heavy this one, but it's a key turning point for both Liam and Fyren. Liam's a bit more sure of his beliefs now, and Fyren has accepted that Hargren was right and he needs to put more trust and faith in Arthur. That Arthur is already changed from the view he has had of him.**

**I'll be updating Destiny next, so keep your eyes open for it :)**


	61. Scars of the Witch Hunt 'Part 1'

**Alaia Skyhawk: The last few episodes of this fic have undergone a MAJOR revision from this point onwards. I've been looking at this fic, and taking note of the fact that in 60 chapters it's already done most of what I've set out to do with it. Liam's early years have been covered, the founding of the Conspiracy. Building on the main players within that group and their interaction with the main characters of the show. Things have been set up ready for season four, and by this point there are only three main things left that I **_**need**_** to cover.**

**1: Events relating to The Witchfinder and the aftermath of that. You'll find out the purpose of it when you read this episode.**

**2: The search for Morgana, the death of Hargren, and Morgana's return a year after her disappearance.**

**3: Liam's reassignment to Camelot.**

**For that reason, the ten episodes I had loosely plotted beyond this point have been cropped down to three. One to cover each of the above. Yes it means this fic will be 69 chapters instead of 90, but if I went with my original framework I'd never get it done before season 4 starts, and it would DRAG. The last thing I want is for this to become a chore to read, or write. So without further ado, I shall leave you to read the first part of the final three episodes.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Merlin TV series etc, but I do own the OCs of this fic.**

**Music:****Undying Faith (Two Steps from Hell)**

~(-)~

Chapter 61: Scars of the Witch Hunt ~Part 1~

If there was anything their group feared, dreaded, and prayed would never happen, it was something like this. One name to strike terror, and set in motion what was the biggest mass warning in tears.

The Witchfinder.

Hargren sat at his desk, pouring through several hasty messages from the Aering Knights. Fyren had been forced to split his squad into three to reach all the relevant people in time, the only advantage they'd had was the three day head start between Aredian passing through Ulwin and reaching Camelot. It had almost not been enough.

Reading the last message, the lord finally leaned back in his chair and sighed. It was hard to believe things could turn so foul so fast, but after last month's humiliating incident involving a troll, Uther's fury knew no bounds. He'd been set on the war path against magic, and it would be a while before he calmed down. This was shaping up into becoming a second Purge, and he had only a single squad of knights to prevent that.

The door of his study opened, his wife peering around it before entering. She had a small tray with her, and the customary goblet of wine.

"How are Fyren's men doing? Did they reach everyone?"

Hargren smiled at her weakly, nodding.

"He's managed to warn all the main people. They will warn the rest. Aredian has already been at the city now for four days. If he's caught anyone during the start of his search, word should arrive here any time now. If there's one thing Uther is always prompt about, it's informing me of developments at the city."

Jancine sat down on her chair beside his desk, placing a hand on his.

"I'm sure Merlin will be fine. He's stayed hidden this long, well over a year and through some truly remarkable things. He'll be fine, I'm certain."

Hargren looked to his wife, grateful for the reassurance.

"Yes, he does always seem to land on his feet. We were right to leave him and Arthur to stand on there own. They really didn't need our protection anymore." He set aside the pile of messages, a more cheerful smile on his face now. "Now, I hear rumour tell that Liam came rather close to asking Hana 'the question' yesterday. Any rumour as to what stopped him?"

She chuckled.

"Sheer nerves... He 'chickened out' as Fyren would put it." Her smile faded a little. "The threat of Aredian has him unnerved as well. With all his involvement with those who use magic, he's afraid of endangering her."

Both of them sighed, the lord shaking his head.

"He's still letting fear hold him back, and he'll continue to do so until he builds up more confidence in himself. It's such a pity I can't tell him Kalem is alive. If he knew, he'd be a far different man. Far more self assured."

"Would it really hurt to tell him? He's more than old enough now, to understand why Kalem wanted to make sure he stayed here. He's wise enough to know he'll come back some day. He'd wait."

Hargren regarded her solemnly.

"But what if something happens, and he dies before he can? Liam will spend the rest of his life waiting for a friend who is already gone. It wouldn't be fair on him." He picked up the goblet of wine she'd brought, drinking the contents and setting it down firmly just as there was a knock on the door. "Enter."

It was a courier who walked in, approaching the desk and half-bowing as he held out a sealed message.

"A letter from the King Uther."

Hargren accepted it, nodding once.

"You may take yourself down to the servant's wing. Speak to the head of the kitchen staff, and she'll see you fed before you make your return to the city."

The courier bowed again.

"Thank you, My Lord."

Both of them watched him leave, Jancine waiting until he was gone before eyeing the message.

"Has he pressed a dot beside the seal?"

Hargren turned it over, examining the wax with a grim expression.

"He hasn't. This is an official message, which means..."

She watched him break the seal and unfold the message, his eyes following the lines of writing before they widened and he dropped the letter in shock.

Jancine half rose from her seat.

"What is it? Who has he arrested? Is it Merlin?"

Hargren slowly turned to her, his voice a disbelieving whisper.

"He's arrested Gaius. A magical amulet was found in his chambers when they were searched after Aredian declared _Merlin_ was suspect. Gaius claimed ownership of it." He picked up the letter again. "What could Uther be _thinking_. He should _know_ Gaius would never betray him."

Jancine's reply to that was quiet.

"But would he do it to protect Merlin?"

~(-)~

"Is this some sort of joke?"

"Surely you can't be serious."

Outside the windows the sky was dark, the curtains shut tight, the room within lit only by the candles in their stands. Below that window two of Hargren's personal guard stood watch, and in the hallways outside the study, yet more maintained a wary vigil. This was a dangerous gathering to have under present circumstances, but it could not wait. He'd called his closest allies together, waiting until this late hour to allow for Fyren's arrival.

The knight was even now staring at him, Forwin beside him in equal shock. The two of them, Jancine, and the Oristalla watchman from the woods outside Ulwin were present. This was a serious matter, and Hargren certainly _wasn't_ joking.

He held up the letter, his tone serious.

"I assure you this is no joke, Uther has had his own Court Physician arrested on suspicion of sorcery. This is bad."

Astonishment turned to wariness, Forwin frowning.

"And why is it bad? Gaius betrayed the magical community, if he ends up befalling the fate he left so many others to suffer, then what of it?"

Hargren set down the letter, grim.

"Gaius is Merlin's guardian, his mentor. We know from Nellan that he is the one who has been teaching him, being his advisor and helping him. According to Uther's message to me, Merlin was accused of suspicion first, but when an amulet was found in his chambers, Gaius claimed it was his. That is the reason for his arrest."

Fyren folded his arms, his armour clinking. He was still wet from riding here in the rain, as fast as he could after receiving word to return.

"You said he was arrested on 'suspicion', that amulet could have been planted. If he hasn't been using magic, then won't the case against him collapse? He's a _Trusted Retainer_ for heaven's sake. Surely Uther will listen to him."

"Uther Pendragon is blind to reason in matters of magic. Not even his closest allies are safe from him when his rage takes hold." The druid watchman watched them from where he stood near the door. "Hargren knows as I do, that Aredian is notorious as a witchfinder. Those he arrests are invariably found guilty, but not because of physical evidence."

When eyes turned to him, Hargren nodded.

"Those he arrests are found guilty because he tortures them mentally, starves them of food and water, until their will is broken and they confess just to make the suffering stop. The same will happen to Gaius, and in a matter of days his execution will be a certainty."

Silence fell among them, each glancing at the others waiting for someone to respond to that statement. But no one uttered a word, not a thing, until the former druid among them rose to his feet.

"I will go to Camelot, and try reason with the king."

Jancine also rose, surprised that _Forwin_ of all people would suddenly speak in Gaius' defence.

"But what can you hope to do? As it is, you may not even get there before Gaius confesses."

The physician snorted.

"Well I certainly won't get there in time if I stand here blathering about it." He pinned Hargren with a stare. "You called us here to tell us this, because you think it's time. Didn't you? We've known that Gaius has been helping Merlin keep his magic secret, teaching and guiding him. That alone wasn't enough to atone for what he'd done in the past, but now he's shown he is willing to _die_ to protect him. Gaius knows Aredian far better than we do, and would have known what he was facing by doing what he did."

Regarding each of them carefully, Hargren nodded.

"It's true. If we can somehow prove his innocence, I think we should tell him of our existence. I will, of course, insist that he does not tell Merlin. He must remain uninfluenced by us, but I see no further reason to hide from him. He is no danger to us, for Uther would never believe his word against mine."

Fyren frowned at where the conversation was going.

"That's all and well, but until he's out of Camelot's dungeons, talking about getting him to join us is a moot point."

Hargren shook his head at that.

"I never said I was going to ask him to _join_ us. I trust him to protect Merlin, because he already does. But I will not risk our entire conspiracy by allowing him knowledge about our workings. Forwin, you may go to Camelot and do what you can. If Gaius is acquitted, invite him to come here for surely he'll want some time away from Uther. Only you and I will be known to him as part of this conspiracy. He will be allowed only speculation as to who else might be involved."

Silence fell again, no one raising objections. If Hargren felt Gaius was ready to be trusted with that much, then they would follow him. He'd led them true up until this point, and believed in him to continue in that.

~(-)~

**Alaia Skyhawk: As you can guess, this one ties quite tightly with the sub-ep that will come after The Witchfinder in A Question of Destiny. I don't doubt there may be some people in the 'Gaius knows too much' group who will be annoyed at this, but it's part of my Season 4 plans of Gaius finding himself being slowly accepted back as part of the magical community. He'll also be the one who vouches to Arthur that the Conspiracy can be trusted, when they start to show up during that time and join forces with him and Merlin... And besides, he won't really know that much. Just that Hargren doesn't agree with the law against magic, and has been saving sorcerers behind Uther's back, with some help from allies of unknown name and number :)**


	62. Scars of the Witch Hunt 'Part 2'

**Alaia Skyhawk: Here's the next part :)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Merlin TV series etc, but I do own the OCs of this fic.**

**Music: Avalon, Merlin Lost (Merlin OST)**

~(-)~

Chapter 62: Scars of the Witch Hunt ~Part 2~

The small convoy that rode into Camelot received only a passing glance, but the individuals who were part of it remained unsettled and wary. There wasn't a single man among them who hadn't committed some infraction of the law against using or consorting with magic, and right now they were riding right into the heart of a witch hunt.

Forwin kept his expression bland and unconcerned, perched as he was in the driver's seat of a small two-wheeled cart. He and Hargren had decided on his excuse for coming, that being if Gaius were in custody, then the city had no trained physician. He would provide his services until the matter with Gaius was cleared up.

Hopefully with the former sorcerer still being alive.

That hope flickered into doubt, when he and his four-guard escort were directed around the side of the castle to the stables instead of directly into the courtyard. He questioned one of those guards, speaking gruffly and with a hint of annoyance.

"This is most unusual. I am Lord Hargren of Ulwin's physician. For what reason am I being made to enter the castle through the _back door?_"

The guard in question glanced at his fellow, uneasy as he replied.

"Are you aware of the arrest of the Court Physician?"

Forwin nodded sharply.

"Of course I am, that's why I'm here. While this farce is going on, Camelot has no physician. Lord Hargren sent me to fill in until Gaius is found innocent."

Another glance, and a grim stare.

"I'm afraid that won't happen... Gaius confessed to being behind the recent magical incidents. He is to burn at dawn. They are presently building the pyre. That's why you must take the cart around to the stables."

"I see..." Forwin had to force himself to remain merely thoughtful, nodding once. "Very well."

He flicked the reins, sending the pony that pulled the cart trotting along the narrow road against the castle walls. Once out of earshot of the guards on the gates, one of his escort spoke in a carefully lowered voice.

"What now?"

"We pray that his ward has not been slacking. The only hope now is for Aredian to be discredited, and that will take some serious evidence."

He left his escort at the stable, knowing they would be directed to the temporary quarters for such as them. He had only been to Camelot twice in the past, but he knew the route to the council chambers and needed not to ask for directions.

He stopped in front of the guards outside them, one of the pair eyeing him suspiciously.

"State your business with the king."

Forwin brought his right hand out from the deep sleeves of his robe, displaying the silver ring he wore that bore Hargren's crest.

"I am Forwin Erradgar, Physician to Lord Hargren of Ulwin. I bear a message from him for the king."

"Very well." The guard opened the door, stepping in to announce the physician. "Forwin Erradgar, he bears a message for you, Your Majesty."

Uther looked up from his musings, a little surprised.

"Forwin? Hargren's physician?"

Forwin entered, waiting until the door was closed before bowing to the king.

"I am indeed, Sire, although I fear the contents of this message are now irrelevant." He walked forward, handing the letter to Uther. "I am sure he will be understanding of any delay in my return... If you require me to stay until a new Court Physician is appointed."

Uther read the letter, looking ever more troubled by the contents. By Hargren's assurances that surely Aredian would be mistaken about Gaius, but that he had sent Forwin to perform Gaius' duties until the matter was cleared up. Uther clearly could not bring himself to look at the physician.

"His faith is admirable, and it is unfortunate to say that he has been fooled by Gaius as surely as I have. His offer of your services to me is appreciated, for I have heard tell that you are as skilled in your craft as Gaius is."

And just as in breech of the law...

Forwin kept that thought to himself, bowing once again.

"It will be an honour to serve you, Sire, however temporarily."

He turned and left, finding as expected that a familiar face waited outside the council chambers. That captain of the guard nodded to him, indicating he follow.

"A respected retainer of Lord Hargren's deserves an escort. I will show to your guest room."

"Thank you... Georg." He waited until they had arrived at the room in question, Georg swiftly sending the servant waiting there to bring food for the visiting physician. As soon as the door was closed, he spoke again. "Aredian tortured him, didn't he?"

Georg's expression was grim, but there was a glimmer of hope in his eyes.

"I overheard Merlin talking to Gaius in the dungeons. The amulet Aredian found belonged to neither of them. I can guarantee that right now he will be following up on that suspicion."

Forwin frowned, concerned. Georg didn't know who Merlin was, but that wasn't to say he didn't know he was important.

"Isn't that dangerous? If he's caught..."

"He won't be." Georg looked a little pleased with himself. "I may have just _altered_ the patrol pattern of the guards a little. When Aredian arrived, I saw to it that in the evenings and night, I will patrol that area of the guest rooms myself. If I'm not actually there, the only one Merlin need worry about catching him is Aredian himself. If I _am_ there, then I can make sufficient noise to ensure Merlin knows he's coming."

The physician let out a sigh of relief, sinking into the nearest chair.

"When Hargren sent you here, I for one thought he was a fool to give up your talents, but now... I _bless_ him for having the foresight to have done so." He settled himself comfortably in the seat, thinking. "So what do you suggest we do now?"

Georg headed for the door, pausing at the threshold.

"Keep out of Merlin's way, and let him do what he does best."

~(-)~

The following day Georg's words proved prophetic, the execution of Gaius halted mere moments before the pyre was to be lit. Due to his connection to Hargren, Forwin was present at the accusation of Aredian as a fraud and a liar, and he watched the proceedings with great interest. Merlin had changed since his impromptu visit to Ulwin all those many months ago, had a greater air of confidence beneath his outwardly clumsy exterior. He saw the tiny smile on the warlock's face when he followed the king and the guards out, a smile at Aredian willingly agreeing to have his guest room searched.

That was the moment Forwin knew the witchfinder's time was up. The search itself was something he was _not_ privy to, rather he took himself to his own room and waited to be summoned. If Aredian had been 'interrogating' Gaius, then the physician would need treatment when he was released.

Forwin smiled to himself when he heard the shouts coming from Aredian's room, and snorted when he heard the window break, followed by Aredian's scream as he plummeted to his death. Good, he wouldn't have to put up with the sound and stench of him being burned in Gaius' place.

The knock came shortly after, and sure enough Georg was the one who opened the door.

"Gaius is being released. I've directed he be taken to his chambers."

Forwin rose to his feet, nodding.

"Then I had best go make myself useful. I still have part of my 'mission' to carry out."

The captain saw the look in the former druid's eyes, that warned him not to ask what that was. The less each of them knew about the dealings of the others, the less risk there was that discovery and capture of one of them would endanger the rest.

Forwin allowed Georg to escort him as far as the tower stairs, but it was there that they parted ways. His ascent up them was brisk, but his manner quiet, and he exuded a gruff sense of calm when he entered.

Merlin blinked when he saw him, recognising him immediately, and frowned a little in puzzlement.

"Why are _you_ here? You're from Ulwin."

The response was acerbic.

"And I might comment that, despite the fact you fail to see the obvious reason for my presence, you at least clearly had wit enough to follow the instructions I gave you for that scrape on your head you got that time."

Merlin winced, turning quiet, while beside him Gaius wearily regarded his fellow physician.

"Hello, Forwin. I see Lord Hargren sent you here to replace me until a new Court Physician could be appointed."

When Merlin bristled at that, Forwin raised a hand to forestall any outburst.

"Actually, he sent me to fill in for you until you were acquitted." He glanced at Merlin. "Lord Hargren never believed that Gaius was guilty. I knew not of his impending execution until I arrived yesterday." He pointed to the door. "Now make yourself useful, and go get some fresh water. After that, I suggest you make yourself even _more _useful and go sort out some food for your guardian. And _then_ you can go get whatever herbs I'll have listed for you by then, for you to get when you get back from that." He looked around the still dishevelled room. "It's a mess in here, and I get the feeling it will be easier for you to go fetch some things than me waste time looking for them."

When Gaius gave him a nod, Merlin hesitated before hastening from the room to do as asked. Watching him go, Gaius sighed.

"He never ceases to amaze me. He never gave up on proving my innocence, and he succeeded."

Forwin nodded.

"He seems to have a talent for standing up for what he believes is right, if what I've heard from rumour and gossip is to be believed." He turned to Gaius, starting to remove the old physician's shirt to examine the numerous bruises he had. "I see Aredian was as brutal as his reputation would have him be. That was a brave thing you did for Merlin. Uther's letter to Hargren reported that your ward was the one first accused."

Gaius grimaced when a particularly sore spot was prodded, submitting to the other physician's examination. Truth be told, it was a relief to have someone else to treat him rather than having to try his best to treat himself.

"I promised his mother I would look after him, and I meant it." He eyed Forwin suspiciously. "You're not normally this pleasant, Forwin. Tell me, for what reason have you made sure my ward will be occupied elsewhere for the next hour or so?"

Forwin returned that gaze, deciding that if Gaius were still this sharp after what he'd been through, then he might as well get to the point.

"Lord Hargren wishes to invite you to Ulwin, to recuperate from your ordeal, and find respite from the Royal Court to do so."

Gaius frowned.

"And for what reason does he really invite me? Seeing as he so clearly expected me to be proven innocent."

"That is something that he will tell you himself."

~(-)~

**Alaia Skyhawk: Dun dun dun dun! I won't be showing the scene of Gaius preparing to go, because that one will be in the sub-ep after The Witchfinder. Next chapter, Gaius in Ulwin!**


	63. Scars of the Witch Hunt 'Part 3'

**Alaia Skyhawk: I've been looking forward to this bit. This section is unique in my fics so far, in that at least for a single ep/sub-ep a main character and an OC are swapping places. Gaius going to Ulwin, and Forwin staying behind in Camelot to fill in for him. When I get as far as that sub-ep in Destiny, you can well imagine that Merlin isn't going to be impressed by that XD**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Merlin TV series etc, but I do own the OCs of this fic.**

**Music: Merlin Lost (Merlin OST)**

~(-)~

Chapter 63: Scars of the Witch Hunt ~Part 3~

"The escort that went with Forwin have been spotted on the south road. Gaius is in the cart, and Forwin has remained behind at Camelot."

The door of the study closed, Tarven leaving after that brief message, while inside his parents breathed a sigh of relief. Gaius had been proven innocent, and spared execution. It was the outcome they had hoped, and one that Hargren was grateful for.

He regarded his fingers where they lay at rest upon his desk, thoughtful as he mused almost to himself.

"That was resolved more swiftly than I thought. I wonder what happened."

Beside him Jancine reached her hand out to his, gripping it lightly.

"Gaius or the escort will most likely have the king's report for you. We'll find out soon enough." Silence fell for a moment, and she regarded her husband thoughtfully. "Hargren, I know you wanted only you and Forwin to be known as conspirators to Gaius, but... Let me be the one to greet him. It's probable he will be certain of my involvement regardless. He knows how close the two of us are, and that you would never lie to me."

He turned his head to her, frowning a little in concern.

"But you know that the fewer names he learns..."

"The fewer people at risk." She sighed, reaching up and tweaking him by the collar of his shirt. "You worry far too much about me. Don't forget that we started all this together, so we shall stand together. I hold no fear of Gaius knowing I am involved. The only one who need be kept from him is our son."

Seeing the stubborn set of her chin, the resolve in her expression, Hargren relented with a small shake of his head.

"The choice is yours to make. Just be careful, and don't say anything I wouldn't."

Jancine smiled, getting up to head for the door.

"Don't worry, I won't. I've been playing the game of conspiracy for just as long as you have."

She walked from the study, confidently making her way to the manor entrance. She understood Hargren's wish to shelter her beneath the veil of anonymity, but if she allowed that then his burden would be all the greater. At least this way she should carry part of it for him.

She waited upon the manor steps, letting the pale autumn sunlight warm her where she stood sheltered from the wind. It was not that long before the four guards and the cart entered the estate, certainly the wait was not tedious. Waiting on the brink of what could be a fall, could _never_ be tedious lest it lead to a careless step over the edge.

Jancine watched as the cart came to a stop at the base of the steps, slowly descending them observed by the old man riding in it. Gaius allowed himself to be helped from the vehicle, approaching her with a slight hesitation in his stride as he walked. His bow was similarly careful, the creases of his face seeming to deepen ever so slightly in pain.

"It is a pleasure to see you again, Lady Jancine. I trust that you are well."

She smiled at him as she reached his side, her voice filled with concern and sympathy.

"I'm so sorry you had to suffer what you did. That horrendous man, Aredian, has always had the harshest reputation. I could scarce believe it when he passed through here at the behest of the king. And when we heard that you had been arrested."

Gaius' expression darkened for a moment in memory.

"Yes, well the king has learnt his lesson at least for now. It will be some time before he is so careless as to accuse an ally again."

"Yes, I would hope so." Jancine saw the pain that subject brought, and her manner became more businesslike. "Is there a report for my husband? That you are here tells us you were proven innocent, but not what actually happened. What did Uther do to Aredian when you were proven innocent?" One of the escort came forward and held out the report to her, and she waved him away. "Take it to Hargren."

Gaius watched the exchange, even as he answered her question.

"You could say that he was furious, although I cannot say for sure since I was still in the dungeon at that time. That report will explain it far better than I can." He shifted a little as the guards took the cart away, their absence prompting him to speak of other things. "Forwin told me that your husband wanted to speak with me. Might I enquire when that will be?"

Jancine gave him a knowing look, her words full of underlying meaning.

"First you will rest; talk will come tomorrow. My husband has much to say, and you will surely have questions of your own. It will not be a discussion that can be rushed."

Gaius caught the implication that she knew what the talk would be. He was not blind to the fact that something was going on.

"I see..."

She led him to the guest room that had already long been prepared, ushering him through the manor and into that chamber. She waited as he set down his travel bag, waited until he'd removed his cloak before informing him of the evening plans.

"You are invited to dine with us this evening. With my husband, son, and I. But I trust you will keep to _appropriate_ topics of conversation. My son knows nothing of the invitation. This is for you, after all, merely a visit to _rest _and recuperate."

Once again a hidden meaning. Gaius hid his uneasiness at her speaking this way. This was not a side of Lady Jancine that he was familiar with.

"Of course, and I would be honoured to dine with you."

He watched her go, frowning a little. She had been as kind and welcoming as always, but there had been an underlying hint of steel to her words. His meeting with Hargren was secret, or at least the reason for it was, and it seemed she knew that reason.

Outside, Jancine too was thinking. She had not been lying when she said Tarven didn't know about the invitation. He'd been on standby as a Knight of Camelot, quite possibly to be called to take part in the witch hunt, and as such he'd been kept out of their group's recent work. He would be informed of what had gone on, but later once everything had calmed down again.

She returned to her husband's study, arriving to find he had already read the report and had a smile on his face in reaction to it.

He held up the report.

"Did you know that Aredian was a 'sorcerer'? Apparently he was. A search of his chambers, after evidence arose that the witnesses had been hallucinating due to using belladonna tincture eye drops, resulted in an _interesting _discovery."

Jancine tilted her head in amused query.

"And that would be?"

His smile widened.

"A copious quantity of vials containing the self same eye drops, and an equally copious number of amulets identical to the one found in Gaius' chambers." He paused, clearly holding back laughter. "And then he apparently had a _toad_ come out of his mouth."

His wife stared.

"A _toad?_" She started to laugh. "I think I can guess where _that _came from."

Hargren too began to chuckle, indicating she seat herself in her usual chair.

"Aredian tried to take Morgana hostage after that, but seemingly stumbled and fell out of his guest room window. It spared him facing his execution in Gaius' place. Uther wasn't too pleased about that, but as his report says 'at least the sorcerer is dead, and can do no more harm'." His smiled faded. "Now. What of Gaius?"

Jancine sighed, her expression concerned.

"He limps ever so slightly, and his movements are careful and measured. He's hiding it well, but it's clear he has suffered significantly at Aredian's hands. He is also wary as to what reason you could have invited him here. I don't believe he has any specific suspicions, but he is certainly suspicious in general. I fear that dining with him tonight will be... awkward."

"Awkward, but necessary." Hargren folded his hands on the desk, solemn. "He must be made to doubt who could and could not be involved in our group. By making him restrain his questions in front of our son tonight, we will give rise to him doubting if nor not Tarven knows anything. If there is doubt, then no accusations can be made if he _does_ try to tell the king. I do not believe he will..."

"But we cannot take the chance." She rose to her feet, ready to leave. "I'll bring him here in the morning, at the second hour after dawn. Tarven will be out on patrol then, and Liam will be out doing errands for me. Tabar has also been warned to make himself scarce, and he's decided the floor of your chambers is in need of a deep clean. No one will enter this room between then and noon, and I've arranged with the head of staff to ensure that no one not involved with us will be left alone with Gaius during the rest of his stay."

Hargren nodded solemnly.

"Then that's more time than I should need, and the rest will ensure no stray word gets to people it shouldn't."

~(-)~

Gaius woke the following morning, a little confused to be in such a large and soft bed. Laying there, remembering where he was, he could not deny that the luxury had eased his stiffness, much like the bath he'd found waiting for him after dining with Hargren and his family last night.

He sat up slowly, frowning a little in thought. Sir Tarven had been his usual somewhat formal self, emotion only really showing in a flicker of outrage at Aredian's deception. He was an exemplary knight, and had proven that during the years he'd run the border defences. Even now that the defences were just a precaution, he was still respected... He was also tightly tied to Arthur and the king, because he was a knight. Would he know anything? Had Jancine spoken true that he didn't? He had to guess that she had, because nothing else made sense if this 'talk' with Hargren was going to be something as serious as he suspected it would be.

His musings were interrupted when the chamber door opened quietly, the servant that had been assigned to him entering and nodding respectfully.

"I've been told to inform you the Lady Jancine will be coming for you in an hour. If you require anything before then, just let me know."

Gaius watched him set down the tray of food he'd brought in, turning and easing himself out of the bed as he did so.

"I'm quite alright. You may go. I can take care of myself from here, I do it often enough back in Camelot."

The servant bowed his head in acknowledgement, and paused only to finish adding wood to the fire in the hearth.

"Very well. Good day to you then, Sir."

The physician watched him go, wary. Did that servant know what was going on? He then shook himself in reprimand. Of course the man didn't, he was a servant. Wondering why Hargren wanted him here, was no reason to become paranoid.

He dressed before heading to the table, eating the breakfast that had been brought for him. It was good, but simple, the kind of food that would sit easy in a stomach that had seen little in days not long previous. Hargren, or perhaps Jancine, had arranged what would be brought to him. Both of them would have known the way Aredian worked, and know he'd been deprived during his ordeal.

Gaius was still seated at the table when the door opened again some time later, still lost in thought when the voice behind him made him flinch.

Jancine smiled a little in apology for startling him.

"My husband is waiting for you in his study, if you're ready to meet with him."

Gaius rose to his feet, cautious.

"I am."

He followed her from the guest room, onwards deeper into the manor and reaching the area watched over by Hargren's personal guard. Those men did not twitch a muscle at their posts when they passed, but he knew they watched him. He felt like he was entering a fortress, rather than just the personal quarters of Ulwin's leading family.

Jancine stopped outside Hargren's study, silently indicating the door before nodding and walking away. Gaius watched her leave, then reaching out and knocking on its surface.

"Enter."

The lord's voice sounded from within, Gaius opening the door and entering. Only once he'd closed it again did he nod once to the man behind the desk inside.

"Lord Hargren."

Hargren gestured to the chair that had been placed before the desk, waiting until the physician was seated.

"I know you are wondering why I have asked to speak with you, but first I wish to express my sympathy for what you were subject to. Had I been in Camelot at the time of your arrest, I would most assuredly have spoken in your defence. Despite your... past... you are a loyal retainer of the royal household."

Gaius was unmoved, and deeply wary.

"Indeed, not that it made much difference. When the king suspects sorcery, there is no reasoning with him. He is quick to judge, and quicker to act whenever it may be involved. But that does not make him a bad king, merely a misguided one." His voice became a slight growl, with an edge of extreme tension. "Now if you would get to the point of why you invited me here. I do not need pleasantries."

Gaius was afraid, it was written in every line of his posture. He had come because it was true he'd wished for some time away from the king, but that did not change the fact he feared a repeat of what he'd just been through.

Hargren sighed, understanding that.

"Very well, I will be blunt with you... I know about Merlin."

There was a flash of fear in the physician's eyes, quickly concealed as he frowned.

"Pardon? Whatever do you mean? Know _what_ about Merlin?"

He sounded incredulous, as though confused as to why Hargren would ask him here to speak about a _servant_. The lord sighed again.

"I know he is a warlock, that he has a spellbook given to him by your own hand, and that you are actively guiding him in using his magic to protect Camelot."

Gaius seemed to freeze, eyes widening perceivably before he began to splutter.

"That's preposterous! I would never break the law against magic, and my ward most certainly is _not_ a warlock. He's far too _stupid _to learn sorcery."

"My former manservant, Fyren, has witnessed him using it. Specifically him attempting to animate a statue of a _dog_." Hargren felt a moment of sympathy for Gaius, seeing the fear for his ward surfacing. "I also have it on good authority that he was the one who killed the griffin."

Gaius' expression changed to a glimmer of realisation.

"That druid, Nellan... You know him, don't you? You're _working_ with him?"

Hargren leaned back in his chair, settling his hands into his lap. This was good, Gaius had stopped trying to deny everything.

"He is an ally, true. His clan has helped me keep track of Cenrid's actions along the border, allowing me to adjust the defences accordingly. He drove the griffin away from Rillen when it attacked there, and once Forwin had helped him stabilise his wounds, he went after it. He never expected to encounter Merlin in the woods that day, it was pure chance, but one that let us confirm that you were not as staunch a supporter of the law as you have pretended to be."

Again the suspicious growl.

"One that _you _clearly do not support either."

Hargren nodded his head in acceptance of that accusation.

"I have never agreed with it, but that does not change the fact I consider Uther to be one of my closest and long-standing friends. I would never turn against him, but that does not mean I will turn a blind eye to the suffering of innocent people who fall foul of that law. I warned the druids in my lands to flee when I got first wind of the Purge, and for that I garnered great respect among them. That respect is why, when I sought them out for help for my wife, they were happy to assist."

Gaius' agitation gave way to surprise, followed by certainty.

"I _knew_ her recovery was not natural. I _knew _that illness had no mundane cure."

"Then why say nothing to the king?"

Hargren's tone was of polite enquiry, but Gaius saw the barb hidden in the words.

He scowled.

"There was no proof, only my suspicions, and you and your wife did not deserve to be punished simply for seeking an end to her suffering."

Hargren leaned forward again, bracing his arms on the desk.

"And that mercy, that leniency, is why I do what I do. I will not persecute those who use magic to do no harm. I will not see those that use it to save lives, ease suffering, be punished for doing so. But at the same time I cannot openly oppose Uther, nor do I want to. He is my friend. And so I work from the shadows, aiding those who use magic for good, and hindering those that would use it for ill. That is why your ward is so significant to myself, and the rest of my allies, for a small fact that only a handful at the heart of our conspiracy know. A fact that we suspect you _also_ know, and I am curious to learn of how long you have been aware of it."

Gaius' frown returned at the mention of his ward, once again wary.

"_What _fact? He's just a boy."

Hargren lowered his head a little, lifting it only to regard the physician in anticipation of the reaction to come.

"How long was it before you realised that Merlin is Emrys."

Gaius choked, unable to speak as shock turned to defensive anger and he began to rise to his feet in fury.

"How do you know that? _If you intend to harm my ward!_"

Hargren stood, holding up his hands to try and calm him.

"I have no intention of exposing or harming him, not when I and my allies have spent all these years watching over and keeping him _safe _until he could begin down the path of his destiny." Gaius paused, confused, and Hargren quietly explained. "We've gone to a great deal of effort to protect him, to prevent him being found. And since we ceased most of that observation, a few months after he first arrived at Camelot, we have instead been building a firm foundation from which Arthur will be able to work as king when their destined day comes."

Gaius stared at him, incredulous.

"Wait, are you saying that you knew about Merlin _before _he even arrived in Camelot?"

Hargren settled back down into his seat, nodding. He knew this was going to be a little hard for the physician to hear and accept.

"I've know about him, that he lived in Ealdor, since he was twelve years old. He and Arthur are the future of magic and Albion, and we made sure that Cenrid never found him while he was vulnerable. There were a few close calls, during the time Cenrid was actively searching for the fabled Emrys. Nellan's clan constructed a hidden road close to the village, to help keep an eye on it. They made sure to lure Merlin out of Ealdor whenever Cenrid's men passed through."

Gaius seemed to have lost the ability to think, such was the depth of his shock.

"You're a supporter of magic? You protected Merlin? You want to see magic return?"

Hargren moved from behind his desk, gently easing the stunned physician back onto his chair.

"I am, but if you were ever to try and expose me to Uther you would be wasting your time." He returned Gaius' regard when the old man looked up at him. "It would be your word against mine, and Uther would never suspect me. I have no ill will against him or Camelot, I merely seek the peaceful return of magic and the founding of Albion. Which means if it is your goal to keep Merlin and Arthur safe, then we both want the same thing."

Gaius watched him return to his position behind the desk, still at a loss.

"Then why tell me all this now? Why not approach me sooner?"

The Lord of Ulwin was solemn.

"Because while we were sure from an early point that you knew Merlin had magic, and were helping him keep it secret, it did not change the fact that you _stood by_ and watched so many innocent people be executed for even the most innocuous of magical abilities. Your self-sacrificing actions in protecting Merlin from Aredian have proven you are worth at least _some_ faith now, but I am not inviting you to join my circle of allies. You're a long way still from redeeming yourself enough for that, but at the same time I want you to know that you are not the only one close to Uther and the prince, who would see the prophesy fulfilled."

Gaius now seemed almost deflated, staring at his hands in his lap while he put all the pieces together. Suddenly so much made sense.

He raised his head, his gaze now calculating.

"Your horse trainer didn't _really_ discover a new training method, did he? He's using your original one, using _magic_ to train horses for the Knights of Camelot."

Hargren laughed, not surprised that the physician had worked that one out.

"He is, and he used it to train the horses that Arthur and Morgana were given as well. He also trained the horse Merlin uses. Bitan, I believe your ward named it?" Gaius nodded, and Hargren smiled. "That horse was specifically trained for him, to be ridden by a sorcerer. It will serve him well."

The two of them watched one another, and in those long moments Gaius could see there was no threat in anything Hargren had said. He was sincere in his will to see magic return, and sincere in his desire to do no harm to Uther or Camelot. He just wanted Merlin and Arthur to succeed in their destiny.

The physician let out a long breath, letting his tension go.

"So what now?"

Hargren tapped his fingers on the table, thoughtful.

"Now you rest, and recuperate here in Ulwin until you head back to Camelot in three days."

"And after that?"

Another long look passed between them, Hargren's demeanour becoming closed.

"You will hear nothing else from me or my allies, with regards to Merlin or our activities. The only missives going to Camelot from me, will be my usual reports and letters to the king. You are not yet welcome as a member of the conspiracy I lead, nor will you be until we decide you can be trusted to that extent... There are too many lives that depend on our secret, and I will not risk them."

"Is that so." Gaius nodded, accepting that, but then his expression hardened. "If that is the case, if I am to have nothing to do with your group, then I will set a boundary as well."

Hargren eyed him.

"And what would that boundary be?"

Gaius narrowed his eyes, a warning against opposing him in his tone.

"I will vow not to breathe a word about you to Uther, but I want a vow in return. Just as I am not to interfere with your group, you must not interfere with _mine_." His voice was deathly serious. "You must promise me to stay away from Merlin. He is _my_ ward, and _my _responsibility. His mother entrusted him to me, and I will not have him interfered with. He faces enough hardship as it is, without you adding more. The less he knows, the easier it will be on him."

Hargren nodded, accepting.

"And in that we agree. Very well, you have my vow that no one who is involved in my group will act to influence Merlin in any way, provided you vow to say nothing to _anyone_ about us in return. That includes Merlin. He must not learn his significance, or it could influence him and send him astray of his destiny."

Gaius paused, seeming to think something before smiling ever so slightly.

"Fine, you have my vow... _Ic asweree be Fyrnweorc Drylac. Ic ne asprice de ure facengecwis, oth bocriht._" Hargren stiffened in surprise at the _magical_ vow, and Gaius snorted. "Surely if you knew I was helping him learn magic, that I had resumed dabbling in it myself. This way you know my vow is serious, and that I am incapable of breaking it. If I try to speak of you to others now, the Old Magic will stop me. Only you, or whoever comes to lead your conspiracy after you, can release me from it." He turned and headed for the door, glancing back when he reached it. "I have no further questions of you, and will answer no more either. All that need be said, has been said. While I cannot honestly say my allegiance is completely to magic, considering my ties to Uther, my loyalty and life belong to Merlin. If it were a choice between him and Uther, there is no choice."

Hargren watched him leave, but did not stop him, and thus he was unaware of the satisfied smile that appeared on Gaius' face once the door closed. All he knew was that Gaius had sworn an unbreakable vow, proving perhaps that they _should_ have trusted him at this point. But what was done, was done, and so he would never find out the secret of his own that Gaius had kept.

The secret that Merlin already _knew _that he was Emrys...

~(-)~

**Alaia Skyhawk: And there you have it! That was a great conversation to write, and the vow covers why Gaius never breathes so much as a word about the conspiracy from what will be the relevant point in Destiny, and during the all of Season 3 in Motives. Take that, cool-conversation-created plothole! :D**


	64. Loss of a Leader 'Part 1'

**Alaia Skyhawk: Well the time hath come, and I'm going to have to say goodbye to one of my OCs (sniffles). I can say though, that there will be more to this episode than just that inevitable death.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Merlin TV series etc, but I do own the OCs of this fic.**

**Music: Undying Faith (Two Steps from Hell)**

~(-)~

Chapter 64: Loss of a Leader ~Part 1~

Hands carefully turned over the various maps, eyes casting over the lands they showed as the lord noted which areas had been searched and what others had not. It was lucky that Camelot had attained a treaty with the five of the largest kingdoms of the lands, and not too long before these dark days. Things had gone downhill so fast, the unexpected happening so suddenly. Starting with the attempted theft of the Crystal of Neahtid, escalating to the ensorcelling of the entire capital and subsequent kidnap of Morgana when that plan failed. Then the Great Dragon had escaped, wreaking vengeance for his captivity and the slaughter of all his kind, killing dozens of people in fury before being mortally wounded and driven away by Prince Arthur. It had been undeniable that he and his allies here in Ulwin had been relieved that the rampage had been ended, but still part of them grieved that the last of the dragons had been lost. It had been a sad day for the Old Magic.

Hargren sighed, pulling forward a map closer to home and regarding it solemnly. A week ago a most unwelcome set of orders had come from the king. It had been almost six months since Morgana's kidnap, and the search for her had already been extensive. All of Camelot's lands had been searched, and the lands of its allies and those not of allegiance but at least sympathetic. There were even as yet being searched again, but that was not enough for Uther. In his determination to have every chance of finding her, he had ordered what many would consider to be mad.

He reached into a drawer of his desk to read the message in question, frowning to himself. How Uther could warrant ordering a search party to enter and scour Escetia was enough to beg the question of his sanity. To do so would be a breech of the truce accord, but in light of knowing Uther would not back down on this, he'd gone to the effort of at least attempting a diplomatic solution first.

The door of his study opened with a quiet knock, the man who's return he had been waiting for entering quietly. Nellan looked solemn as he regarded the man behind the desk, and he answered the silent question in Hargren's eyes.

"I've received word from my messenger. They have spoken to King Cenrid on your behalf, and the response is both good _and_ bad."

Hargren sighed.

"Much as I would have expected. Please, sit, and tell me what it is I must deal with."

Nellan pulled one of the chairs from the side of the room, placing it near the desk but not in front of it. He was anticipating that more individuals would soon be summoned.

"He has agreed to permit a _small_ search force to enter his lands, no more than twenty men, and will not consider it an act of war. But at the same time he has warned that if they are spotted by his army they will be attacked on sight as intruders. Basically, his attitude to the search request is 'look for her if you think you can without my men catching you, but you will _die_ if they do'."

Hargren bowed his head, his expression speaking the curses he did not voice. Instead he chose to remain composed, his air that one someone who has already made a tough decision as he raised his voice to speak to the man outside.

"Guard."

The guard outside opened the door and looked in.

"Yes, My Lord?"

"Summon Fyren and have him come here immediately."

"Yes, Sir."

The door closed, Nellan glancing at it.

"I get the feeling you're planning something he isn't going to like."

Hargren sighed again, nodding.

"I have only one force at my disposal with the skills needed to search Escetia under these conditions, and that is the Aering Knights... But under no circumstances can I permit Fyren to set foot on Cenrid's lands. If he was caught and recognised, it would be a disaster."

Nellan frowned.

"Do you want some of my clan to go with them?"

"No, if the search party is spotted, and word got back to Uther that there were druids with them, it would mean the destruction of everything we've achieved in the past ten years."

"Then what _are_ you planning to do?"

Hargren looked grim.

"I will not unnecessarily risk lives on what I know is a fool's errand. If Morgana were in Escetia, Cenrid would have found her long before now and taken great pleasure in parading her corpse along the border. In that light, with this search merely a charade to appease the king's desire to look _everywhere_ for her... I will lead the search party myself. Fyren will _not_ be coming."

Nellan flinched, a hint of concern in his eyes.

"What? But that's..."

The response was definitive.

"I will _not_ risk more lives on this than I must." Hargren thumped his hand down onto the surface of his desk. "Uther is _my_ friend, and if he is intent on this search then I will carry it out myself. Six of the Aering Knights will be coming with me, the other six will remain here to guard Fyren and ensure he does not try to follow me."

The druid let out a small laugh, despite the seriousness of this and despite being resigned to the path these events were taking.

"Six knights will not keep him here, nor all of your personal guard combined."

Hargren nodded.

"Which is why I also ask that you assist them in doing that. He is too important to lose."

Nellan tilted his head.

"May I ask why? I will admit that knowing so little about him perplexes me."

Hargren shook his head.

"I will not answer that. The fewer who know, the better. Besides myself and Fyren, only two others know and they are my wife and son. I have taken him into my household to protect him, and that is what I will do."

Their conversation was halted by another knock on the door, Fyren entering. It seemed he'd been inside the manor already, rather than at the horse yards, for only that would account for his arrival so swiftly.

He glanced questioningly between the druid and the lord, immediately suspicious.

"What is it you wanted to talk to me about?"

~(-)~

Six knights and a lord had ridden out from the garrison gates, those seven men heading east in the dim light of false dawn. Few saw them go, fewer still knew who they were and what their mission was, and one man was barred from seeing them depart at all.

Nellan moved away from the window of the guest chamber, located right in the heart of the innermost part of the manor. A small pile of belongings had been moved here from a hut behind the stables in the horse yards, minus armour and weapons of any kind. Everything particularly breakable had also been removed from the room, the lack of anything but the heaviest pieces of furniture giving the chamber the feeling of being a prison... and to all intents and purposes that was exactly what it would be for the man asleep on the bed.

The druid moved to sit in the chair beside it, solemn eyes cast over Fyren's face. He'd protested vehemently the moment Hargren had revealed his intent to him, so vehement that only magic had been sufficient to restrain him. The druid had been forced to send the knight into slumber, and had promised to keep him there until after the Hargren and his chosen six knights were across the border of Escetia.

Nellan sighed, a glance to the window revealing the hour to be growing late. It was time to wake Fyren up, and be prepared for the inevitable explosion of fury that would follow.

"_Awace_."

The word faded into the silence of the room, the command inherent within it becoming evident in the tiny crease of a frown that formed on the sleeping man's face. And then... Then his eyes burst open and lurched upright with an expression of denial.

"Hargren!" He looked around in confusion at the room, and seeing Nellan sat beside the bed he started to growl in anger. "Where is he?"

Nellan remained unmoved by Fyren's tone, having fully expected it and knowing the knight possessed not the ability to get past his magic to harm him.

"He left many hours ago, before dawn. The sun now sets, and he and the search party will be well across the border by now." He stood up, moving towards the other side of the room and the door located there. "I will go tell Tabar to bring you some food. You haven't eaten for a full day. I'll be back shortly."

Fyren started to scramble off the bed, following him.

"Now just you wait a minute!"

His path was brought to an abrupt halt at the door of the room, when he struck the invisible barrier that had been placed across it.

Hearing the impact, Nellan glanced back.

"Lord Hargren requested I assist in preventing you from following him. I have warded that entire room, windows and door both. You cannot pass them, and it would be pointless to try."

He ignored Fyren's scream of rage that followed, ignored the sounds of the barrier being pounded on, and with a muttered word modified the spell to prevent sound from passing in addition to the man's physical presence. He did not like imprisoning him in this way, but a promise was a promise. Fyren's true identity was a secret Hargren had kept even from him, but if he was insistent on the knight's importance then he would heed to the request without hesitation. Fyren's rage and attempts to escape would diminish with time, and with patience hopefully would not continue overly long.

That turned out to be a wishful but misplaced hope, as day-after-day for that first week Fyren pounded his fists bloody against the walls of his prison, screaming his voice raw with curses and demands for release. There was a glimmer of trained authority in the way he did it, this a wholly different side to the man that the druid had never seen before. A hint of a past showing, where once he must have given orders and had them immediately obeyed. But those days would have been before Cenrid's conquest of Escetia. Those days were not now, here in the present.

The second week he ceased his shouting, more due to the soreness of his throat than any real decision to. Forwin had provided medicine to soothe it, and had tended to the split skin of Fyren's knuckles with barely a word... It was like everyone was walking around on eggshells, not wanting to agitate him even as they themselves shared his concern and worry for the safety of Lord Hargren and the search party.

The third week Nellan finally allowed him out of the guest room, placing new barriers on all the exits from the inner part of the manor. Fyren was now free to move around that area, visit the miniature garden located in the tiny courtyard that gave light to the windows of the innermost rooms. He spent a lot of time there staring up at the small square of sky visible above, his previous shouting now replaced by utter silence and the ignoring of anyone who spoke to him. He didn't bother trying to climb the walls of the courtyard to escape that way, he knew Nellan would not have allowed him out here if some precaution against it hadn't been taken.

The fourth week ended with Fyren's current silence maintained, but with a steadily darkening scowl being directed at any and all people who tried to speak to him. He was like a caged wolf, pacing, pacing endlessly seeking escape, and like the caged wolf he was ready to snap at any moment.

When the snap came, it was both a blessing and unfortunate chance as to who would trigger it. Liam, worried about his friend, finally talked Tabar into allowing him to take Fyren his meals. He picked out all the knight's favourites from what was being cooked that day, tentatively entering the guest room with the loaded tray, but even nervous he put on a small smile of greeting. He'd barely seen Fyren at all since Hargren had left, and mostly only from a distance. He wanted to try and cheer him up.

"I've brought your dinner, Fyren. Miss Parean cooked her special seasoned ham today. I talked her into letting me take _four_ slices of it for you, _big_ slices." He set the tray down, looking over to where Fyren was sat near the window looking out. "Fyren?"

The knight didn't look at him, but his voice held a note of warning.

"Just leave the food there, and _go away_."

Liam frowned a little, crossing part of the distance between them.

"I know you're worried about Lord Hargren, we all are. But you have to remember, he's got six of the Aering Knights with him. You trained them, you know they're strong enough to look after him."

Fingers clenched in white-knuckled grip on the end of the chair's armrest.

"And apparently, despite me being the one who taught them everything that lets them do that, he cannot trust me to look after my own _damned _self and go with him."

Liam hesitated, biting his lip.

"But you know that's not the reason. He just wants to keep you sa..."

"_How is locking me up like this supposed to be protecting me? I am a Knight of Escetia! I do not need to be locked and sheltered up like a small child!_" He glared at Liam. "_Get out!_"

Liam backed up a step, but went no further.

"Fyren, please. Just trust him."

_"I __**have**__ trusted him! Every day for nearly fourteen years! And this is what I get in return! Now get out!_"

When Liam still didn't move, Fyren's control reached it's limit. In the blinking of an eye he seized the heavy wooden chair he'd been sat in and threw it at the young man. Liam frantically dodged to the side, yelping when one of the seat's legs struck him across arm and shoulder. He fell over from the force, then staring at Fyren in terror before scrambling to his feet to flee the chamber clutching his injured arm.

Fyren stood frozen, locked into place by the shocked and hurt way the young man had just looked at him. He'd just harmed Liam, the man that had been almost like a little brother tagging around with him when they'd both been servants for Hargren. Even after he'd moved on and became commander of the Aering Knights, Liam had still been there as a friend to him. A little unsure, but still there, ready to offer words of support or just be someone he could talk to... And he'd just hurt him.

Anger vanished into guilt, Fyren finally finding it in himself to move. He ran after Liam, calling out for him, only to slam into one of Nellan's barriers where it barred him from continuing down the passage that was the most direct route to Forwin's workroom. Liam had only been trying to be kind, to break him from his depression... He hadn't deserved to be screamed at like that. He certainly hadn't deserved to have a chair _thrown _at him.

Fyren stayed there, pressed against the barrier in the chance that Liam would return this way. Hopefully his arm was only bruised, if it was broken then Fyren didn't know if he would be able to forgive himself. He remained there, straining against the wall of magic, until at long last a blond-haired young man came into view.

Liam's arm was in a sling but it hadn't been splinted, and he paused when he saw the knight standing there apparently pressing against thin air.

"Fyren?"

He hesitated, flinching a little in uncertainty, and seeing that near tore out Fyren's heart.

He bowed his head in shame, voice full of remorse.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done that. You only meant well, and I... I..."

Liam's expression changed to concern, and then a tentative smile as he hurried over and passed the line where the barrier stood.

"It's fine, I shouldn't have pushed you to talk. You were angry, and I provoked you."

Fyren shook his head. No way in the depths of hell would he let Liam blame himself for this.

"No, I was angry and you were trying to get me to see sense. I provoked _myself_ by not listening." He looked at Liam's bound arm. "How is it?"

Liam glanced at it.

"Forwin says I shouldn't use it for a couple of days, to let the swelling go down, but it's not broken. He um..."

Fyren caught the implication, once again bowing his head.

"He's going to give me a lecture later, and I deserve it." He gestured for Liam to follow him. "Come on. I'll share some of that ham with you. Four slices might be a bit much for my 'delicate' constitution."

Liam cracked a true smile at that, unable to suppress a chuckle. If Fyren was making jokes, then he was on the mend.

"Sure, I'd like that. Forwin's told me to take the rest of the day off. He's going to let Lord Tarven know."

Fyren winced.

"Great, two lectures..." They arrived back at the guest room, each sitting either side of the table where the tray of now cold food still waited. After a while, when half of the contents had been devoured, Fyren set down the piece of bread he was holding and sighed. "I guess not all of my anger was really anger... Most of it's frustration."

Liam tilted his head in query.

"About what?"

Fyren leaned back in his chair, eyes distant.

"Escetia is my home, and I haven't set foot there ever since Cenrid took it all away from me. My family, my friends... Hargren told me that I would have to wait for the right time, but how much longer _must _I wait? How long until the chance comes?"

Liam frowned a little.

"What chance?"

Fyren looked at him, solemn.

"Take back Escetia, and restore it to the kingdom it should be. It's the only thing that really keeps me going. That thought, that dream."

Liam braced his uninjured arm on the table, leaning forward.

"Why _have_ you been waiting?"

"One man cannot defeat an army..." Fyren ran his hands through his hair, that same frustration rising again. "When Cenrid first took over, it was so quick and brutal that no one loyal to the old court survived it. Not unless they swore fealty to him, and even then he keeps them loyal by holding a cherished member of their family hostage. The army was wiped out, so besides the population there wasn't anything left to save. And however unwillingly it was given, the support of the surviving nobles gave him a degree of legitimacy. Asking Uther to retaliate, to force Cenrid out under those circumstances, would have only resulted in a prolonged and bloody war. He'd never have agreed to it, not when he was already involved in regular skirmishes with Mercia."

Liam nodded in understanding, but still was curious.

"So how do you plan to get it back? He still has his army."

Fyren now started to smile slyly.

"Ah, but his 'army' are all mercenaries. Escetia's empoverished state restricts his income from taxes, so he cuts back on costs by having no true standing military, and won't trust the small battalions some of the more prominent families maintain on their own in case they try to stab him in the back. Instead he has a core force of mercenaries that he keeps on pay at all times to guard his castle and inner lands, and then buys the cheapest thugs he can find to throw at his enemies. If they die, he can always hire more."

Liam flinched in disgust.

"But that's..."

Fyren nodded.

"Barbaric, I know. But it's also my advantage. It means that there is no loyal force that will hold those lands once Cenrid is dead. As soon as one of his schemes gets him killed, his entire army will leave and look for pay elsewhere. Some will hang around, looting, others might form would-be warbands and try to claim sections of territory, but the difference then will be that I won't need an _army _to deal with those. A small force of highly trained men, and some careful planning, and I'd be able to clear them out bit-by-bit. It would take a while, but it would be more than possible. I wouldn't have to ask Uther for assistance at all. I'd just ask Hargren, and he's already promised me it." He grimaced. "Knowing how I _could_ take Escetia back, that's why it's frustrating. Because until Cenrid dies I'm just stuck here... waiting."

"And worrying about Lord Hargren."

Fyren winced again, but forced himself to look on the positive side.

"You were right, though. He's got the best six of the Aering Knights with him, other than me. They'll stick to the woods, only entering towns and villages in pairs dressed as commoners to look and listen for signs of Morgana. Hargren will always stay with the other four during those times. They won't let him do anything reckless."

Both of them went quiet, remaining that way until Liam sighed.

"But still, I hope they come back soon."

"I do too."

~(-)~

**Alaia Skyhawk: I think this is the deepest I've delved into Fyren's character yet, and I have to say I'm pleased with how it's turned out. I'll see you all next chapter :)**


	65. Loss of a Leader 'Part 2'

**Alaia Skyhawk: (Grabs massive box of tissues in preparation for bawling eyes out while writing this)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Merlin TV series etc, but I do own the OCs of this fic.**

**Music: Undying Faith (Two Steps from Hell) Merlin Lost (Merlin OST)**

~(-)~

Chapter 65: Loss of a Leader ~Part 2~

It was a cloudy morning, a hint of rain teasing those who might set laundry out to dry. The townspeople were going about their business as normal, as were those in the manor... or at least they were until the bell at the garrison began to toll.

Everything stopped at that sound, the majority of the people returning to their tasks when it stopped after ringing just five times. But inside the manor certain people practically exploded into action, that quintet of chimes being the agreed signal that the search party had been spotted heading for the outer garrison gate.

Two men hurried out of the manor's main entrance, a druid and the knight he now finally released from confinement. Fyren grumbled from within his helmet, wishing he wasn't still required to wear it when anywhere but the inner manor and the horse yards. Times like this his time as a servant was a real inconvenience, since too many people here would recognise him.

It had been just over six weeks since the search party had left, not really enough time for such a small group to properly check a kingdom the size of Escetia. Perhaps Hargren had chosen to return early, and trust that Uther would be too distracted to do the maths and query it.

That theory then vanished amid horror, at the sight of only four men and five horses, where seven of each had departed. Two of those men had been lain on stretchers, their armour splattered with blood, and one of them was Lord Hargren.

With a wordless exclamation, Fyren tried to rush to the Lord of Ulwin's side only to be stopped by Nellan, the druid's orders crisp and gaining immediate response.

"Bring them to Forwin, immediately! The two who are unhurt, remain here and make your report."

The two standing Aering Knights nodded, both holding the air of guilt that was often felt by survivors of a terrible tragedy. The guilt that comes of wondering why fate chose you to live and not one of those who had died.

Nellan kept Fyren at a distance from Hargren, the armour convoy of soldiers crossing the manor grounds drawing the attention of all they passed. Servants gasped in horror at the sight of the bloodied lord, expressions awash with concern for him. The word would spread quickly, but it could not be helped. There was no time to do this discretely.

Their arrival at Forwin's workroom triggered another burst of activity, mainly consisting of the physician driving everyone except his two patients, Fyren, and Nellan. He too forced the knight to stay back from Hargren, and understanding his and Nellan's need to be allowed to work he turned his attention to the knight.

The man was Jacob, the third best of the knights. He gritted his teeth as Fyren helped him out of his armour, the process revealing blood-soaked makeshift bandages wrapped around his arm and his lower torso, and another on his lower leg. By the looks of it, he'd come very close to being gutted, a rent in the side of his chainmail tunic revealing a sword had been thrust through it from the side. He'd been very lucky it had only slashed his skin.

Laying the knight back down, and then hurrying to get water and a cloth, Fyren peeled back the wrapping on Jacob's arm and started to clean that less serious wound.

"What happened?"

Jacob winced when the cloth touched the wound, but made no sound before he answered.

"Greg and Benneth went into a town to check around, but we didn't know there was a battalion of Cenrid's men there. One of their patrols came across the rest of us out in the woods and attacked us. We were outnumbered three-to-one, and caught completely off guard. Jem, Rafe, and Ilan fought to the death, and took half the patrol down with them, but even then Lord Hargren and I only survived because of the horses."

Fyren frowned a little.

"The horses?"

Jacob laughed, grimacing when the motion pulled at his stomach wound.

"Yeah, you'll have to tell Yale we owe him one. We lost two of them, but the other three were probably the strangest rearguard I've ever had. Wouldn't let the rest of the patrol get anywhere near us from behind, even killed a couple of the bastards. The two of us managed to finish off the rest. Greg and Benneth got back about half-an-hour after that, and helped me finish tending mine and Lord Hargren's wounds. We only had time to bind them, and had to high tail it after that. The moment that battalion realised the patrol was missing, they'd have come looking. None of us have slept in the three day's hard riding it's taken to get back here."

Fyren set down the cloth, his expression grim and shadowed, his fist clenching for a moment in anger at Cenrid before he nodded to the knight.

"Well you can rest now. You've earned it."

He glanced over to Nellan and Forwin, the former having half-listened to the conversation. He saw the request in Fyren's eyes, and pointed at Jacob.

"_Swefe nu._"

Jacob went limp, sent into blessed slumber just as Hargren had been the moment the pair had begun to work. Fyren remained where he was, continuing to clean the wounds of the man beside him, lightly bandaging them again for now until Forwin could have a look at them himself. By his own guess the one on the arm would require stitching, as would the stab wound through the lower leg, but the gash on Jacob's stomach should only require being kept clean, and some good rest.

What little he could do now already done, Fyren turned to watch Nellan and Forwin. The pair were murmuring quickly and quietly to one another, several spells from the former faintly audible from time to time. But roughly twenty minutes after they started, they just as suddenly stopped and regarded each other solemnly.

Seeing that exchange, Fyren rose to his feet.

"What is it? He'll recover, won't he?"

The two men glanced at each other again, Forwin then bowing his head in defeat.

"...Lady Jancine and Lord Tarven need to be notified. We'll have Lord Hargren moved to his chambers, and make him as comfortable as we can."

Fyren stared, an impossibility dawning on him.

"Wait, are you trying to say he's _dying?_"

Nellan moved forward, ready to forestall any sudden movement by the knight.

"He has lost a lot of blood, and many of his wounds are festering. The infection from them has spread throughout him, and he has a high fever. Even though I have purged the taint from his body, the damage is already done. I've done all I can. It would take a High Priest to save him now, and even if we had time to find one with the ability needed, Hargren will never agree to it. The nearest with the power that could save him was Nimueh, at the Isle of the Blessed, but she's dead. Even if she weren't, he'd be gone before we could reach her... I'm sorry."

Fyren just stood there in shock, slowly starting to shake. Then, just as he was about to start yelling in denial, another utterance of 'swefe nu' sent him crumpling to the floor.

~(-)~

The blond head poked around the door, the young man it belonged to tentatively entering the chambers of the man he'd served since he was twelve. Liam crept hesitantly to the door to the sleeping chamber, standing at it's entrance and trying not to cry at the sight of the great lord laid pale upon his bed.

Hargren smiled weakly when he saw him, waving the young man to bedside and taking note of those glimmers of un-shed sorrow. His voice was whispery and thin, barely louder than a murmur.

"There is no need for tears, Liam. I went into Cenrid's lands knowing full well the risks."

Liam looked down at him, paying no attention to the physician watching from the other side of the bed.

"B-but how are we supposed to continue on without you?"

Hargren sighed.

"Tarven will lead our conspiracy now, and you must do what you can to help him. He knows everything he needs to about who our supporters are and our allies, and I've long been training him to succeed me in the role. You will all have to give him the same trust and support that you have shown me... He will be the tie that holds our efforts together from now on."

Forwin nodded at that, speaking to Liam

"He's already been briefed, and has begun coordinating with those of our allies here in Ulwin. Our work will continue unchanged."

Liam bit his lip, almost as though he were about to protest how casually they are taking all this. But before he could voice that, Hargren reached out and placed his hand on the young man's arm. There was a hint of laughter and solemnity in his eyes at the memories.

"I remember how much of a handful you were when you first came into my care... How much sadness and pain you carried in your heart. Don't let me become another wound to burden it. Instead of grieving for my death, remember and cherish that which I did in life; like you did for Kalem."

The tears in Liam's eyes welled over, running down his face as he mutely nodded. Forwin chose that moment to usher him out, having seen the lord hiding a wince, and once the servant was gone Hargren let his façade slip.

He grimaced in agony, shuddering as he allowed his hand to fall back to the covers, and the physician hurried to his side.

"Hargren? Here, let me get you some more medicine for the pain."

The lord looked at him, shaking his head.

"Do not bother yourself, it is pointless now. Instead, have my wife and son come to me... and Fyren as well. I don't think I'm going to last much longer, and there are things I want to say."

Forwin hesitated, but bowed and left to speak to the guard outside in the hall. Meanwhile in the room Hargren lay there waiting for him to return... waiting for death.

It was not long before Jancine and Tarven arrived, each having remained out of the way at the physician's instruction. But now they went to Hargren's side; Jancine kneeling at the beside to hold his hand, while their son stood solemnly beside her.

Her lip trembled as she regarded him, reaching out to gently stroke his greyed hair.

"I'm here."

Hargren turned his head to look at his wife, only now allowing regret to show in his expression.

"I will miss you ever so much, my dearest love and confidant. The afterlife will be a bleak place for me until the day we can be together again." His gaze moved to his son. "Tarven, my son, remember to stay strong and do not falter. Much will depend on you now, and you must continue to build the foundation from which Merlin and Arthur will be able to work once he is king."

Tarven bowed his head, closing his eyes as he nodded.

"I swear I will not fail you, Father."

The door of the outer chamber opened, Fyren and Nellan entering before the druid discretely left. He'd locked the knight in the guest room again, and had released him at Hargren's summons.

Seeing the third of those he'd asked for, Hargren called him over.

"Fyren... Come here."

The knight came to the foot of the bed, bowing respectfully.

"You wished to speak with me, My Lord?"

Hargren remained quiet for a moment, and then spoke with mild reproach.

"There is no further need to call me that. Let the charade between us end, here at _my _end. The one who should be calling anyone 'My Lord', is me to you."

Fyren started to shake his head.

"No, you shouldn't, because we've _always _been equals."

Hargren watched him with a small smile, his voice ever weaker.

"I've made you suffer so much, making you to wait all this time. Telling you to wait patiently, while asking you to trust my judgement when I told you your goal to take Escetia back could only be realised once Cenrid was dead. I've had you play the fool servant, and my eyes where others would not expect them to be. I've had you be the knight and champion of the innocents, those who fall foul of Uther's misguided hate. But now... Now you must also remember to be the wise _prince_ who will one day lead your homeland back to true peace. That future is why I have worked so hard to protect you."

Fyren went still, eyes widening at those words.

"Sir, I..."

Hargren stopped him with a firm interruption.

"I have asked ever so much of you all these years, and yet not once have you ever asked for anything in return. You are honest and true, fierce and loyal, and you will make a fine king one day... You are a credit to your people, Prince Fyrendir of Escetia."

Fyren, Prince Fyrendir, swallowed thickly as tears began well up in his eyes.

"You honour me, Lord Hargren, and I doubt I will ever again meet a man I would respect more. Were it not for your kindness, and your efforts, I would not be standing here alive today."

Hargren started to cough, all three of them tensing until he relaxed again. But still, his breath was coming to him with more and more difficulty, that was clear.

"Your uncle, King Herwen, would be proud of you. I'm sure that he and your father know you will take good care of their kingdom when the time comes." He turned his attention back to his wife and son, smiling at them. "Just as I know you will take good care of Ulwin."

Jancine forced back a sob, smiling in return amid her tears.

"We promise to never let Ulwin falter, not so long as we live."

Hargren choked again, struggling for several seconds before dragging in another breath.

"And be sure to live long... Please, do not hurry to return to my side. However long I must, I will always wait for you."

He said nothing more, the room going silent as he kept his eyes on hers. Minutes passed, each breath he took harder than the previous, until at last he could hold on no longer. He managed one final smile before the life faded from his eyes, his body going still with one last sigh.

Fyren stood there, numb and unable to move as Jancine started to weep into the hand she held. He remained composed, tears wet on his cheeks, but then Tarven, the ever stoic and solemn Tarven, broke his composure and started to sob. He crumpled to his knees, hands thudding onto the floor as his grief overflowed.

"F-father..."

Seeing that, Fyren could hold it in no more. He too dropped to his knees in sorrow, as locked into wrenching sobs as Tarven was... Hargren, the Lord of Ulwin, his protector for fourteen years and founder of the Conspiracy, was dead.

~(-)~

**Alaia Skyhawk: (Is totally bawling eyes out right now) I think what gets to me most is Tarven breaking down like that. I've never written him in such a state of weakness before, and doing it after all his strong scenes gives it so much more of an impact. And were it not for how solemn this chapter is, I'd probably be bragging right now about finally revealing who Fyren is. As it is, I think I need another box of tissues. (Goes off in search of some to blow nose and sniffle some more)**


	66. Loss of a Leader 'Part 3'

**Alaia Skyhawk: Urk, room renovation. My room, half of what was formerly one big room, is in the process of being converted back into that. Thus, I have no door, bits of plaster everywhere, and I had to totally dust off my PC and bed because my dad failed to decide putting dust covers down while I was at work **_**might**_** just be a good idea. Add to that I've spent 5 hours today lugging bits of wood up and down the stairs to rebuild the original doorway of the 'big room' leading out onto the landing, after spending seven hours stood behind a till at work, and I ACHE!**

**On the plus side, my new drawing tablet arrived today. Digital paintings commeth!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Merlin TV series etc, but I do own the OCs of this fic.**

**Music: Merlin Lost (Merlin OST)**

~(-)~

Chapter 66: Loss of a Leader ~Part 3~

The people of the town stood outside the manor walls in silent candlelit vigil, the bell upon one of the building's towers tolling mournfully. Inside the grounds, in the gardens the far side of the building, those given invitation to attend stood arranged around the grave that had been dug in the hazel grove among the gardens.

Hargren's wife and son, the Aering Knights, Yale and two other trainers from the horse yards, Forwin, Tabar, and Liam. These formed the main part of the group assembled, that group completed by the presence of the King and Crown Prince of Camelot.

Uther and Arthur stood there as Hargren's coffin was lowered into the gave, unaware of the significance of this location and unaware of who the lord had chosen to be buried beside. The other grave here had only a flat plain stone to mark it, no names carved upon that small slab, or at least not on the top of it. To avoid questions by visiting nobles, the side with the names upon it was placed facing down. Only a handful of those here knew what those names were, this the resting place of Liam's father, mother, brother, and memorial to his sister. In a great mark of honour to the family that had stood by him and helped bring Ulwin to prosperity, Hargren had made clear he wished to be buried beside them and not cremated as most people were.

Liam stood there with unashamed tears running down his cheeks, Clara beside him in support and sympathy. This day would be doubly raw for him, because of that reminder.

Glancing at the young man before turning his gaze back to the grave, Tarven knew that of all those here, Liam was probably the one who understood his grief the best at this moment. But he could spare no time to dwell on it, he could not afford to let it get in the way of his duties. He now had a province to run, and a conspiracy to lead right under the nose of the king beside him.

Speaking of the king, Uther showed no tears but did bear an expression of great regret, his voice solemn as he murmured to the new Lord of Ulwin.

"What I don't understand is why he went into Escetia. Why did he lead the search party?"

Tarven remained unmoving, but his tone made clear how unhappy he was.

"Because he knew it was a _fool's _errand. He did not want to risk the lives of those under his care, on a task he knew would more than likely have ended in their deaths." He turned his head to look at Uther, who in turn now regarded him in surprise at his bluntness in such a setting. However, Tarven did keep his voice lowered so that no one else nearby could hear. I will send no further men into Cenrid's lands. If he is so vehement in attacking our forces, even when having granted permission to enter, then if the Lady Morgana were to be found in his realm I believe he would show her just as little mercy. If she were there he would have found her by now, and if he had he would not hesitate to gloat and be sure you learnt of it."

Uther's surprise faded, his expression once again showing deep regret.

"I fear you are right... I should never have sent the order to search Escetia. Hargren's death is my fault, and you are paying the price of my error. If there is any way that I can compensate you for this."

Tarven shook his head, now watching as the four of the knights present began to fill in the grave with earth from the mound of soil behind it.

"That you understand what it is you did is enough, my father would not want me to hold a grudge. Money or riches will not bring him back, and I have other things to concern myself with than frivolities or retribution. I am going to re-fortify the defences of the border with Escetia. After this incident, I'm certain Cenrid may be considering reneging on the truce. I must ensure the forces I command are prepared."

The king nodded.

"Then I will trust your judgement, and give you leave to arrange it as you see fit."

One knight, who stood as honour guard, watched the conversation even if he'd been unable to hear it. He didn't have to, to know that Tarven had as much as rebuked Uther for his foolish insistence on searching Escetia. It was a great irony to have the king and his son here, given the former's views. Besides he and his son, every other man and woman present was a supporter of and in some cases a user of magic. Fyren snorted to himself a little at that. Hargren would no doubt have found this situation somewhat amusing.

The gathering remained at the graveside until the hole was filled, only then moving away to leave the last tending of the grave to be dealt with. Uther followed Tarven, but Arthur ended up with Lady Jancine and her honour-guard, who just happened to be Fyren. Even though it had been the Aering Knights attending the funeral, they were all wearing their cloaks as members of the elite guard of the inner part of the manor, orange and red. Arthur was aware of the significance of the colours, that these warriors were those Hargren had trusted above all others. Thus, a little curious her escort, he began asking her about them.

Fyren gritted his teeth as she obliged by explaining the founding of the special force. Hearing the story of her early days in Ulwin with her husband, and how he'd hand-picked those men that were especially loyal, it rubbed him raw as the questions continued. Indeed, he could see the questions were distressing her too, although she was hiding it well enough to fool Arthur. The thing was, it didn't fool him.

His voice was a half-growled warning from behind the concealment of his helmet's visor, but it was clear enough to get the prince's attention.

"Begging your pardon, Sire, but it's times like this that you should really mind your own business."

Jancine glanced over her shoulder reprovingly, even if there was a hint of gratitude at the interruption.

"That was uncalled for, especially to Prince Arthur."

Fyren ignored her, turning his helm to face the startled prince.

"Some of us feel his death far more than others, and I can say that the last thing those of us like that need is someone prying into idle topics that remind of what we've lost."

Arthur had been stunned into silence, recovering after a moment. But despite the fact he knew he'd just been scolded by a commoner, he made no reprimand and instead sighed.

"You're right, it was thoughtless of me."

He said nothing else, the three of them silently heading into the manor. The rest of today was going to be a long one.

~(-)~

The following day and the painful charade in front of the king was over, various members of the conspiracy watching Uther and his son ride away from manor entrance, gate, and windows. Once they were gone they were able to relax at little, and prepare other less legal gatherings to pay their respects to Lord Hargren. Ulwin was going to feel very strange without him.

Fyren felt that particularly so, as he headed to what he had to remind himself was now _Tarven's_ study. He'd already appointed a new commander to run the Ulwin Garrison, and had ordered him to initiate a full listing and inventory of every man, weapon, and ounce of supplies held in the that and the other two fortresses on the border. It would keep the new commander busy for a while, and allow the new Lord of Ulwin to deal with finding his feet as far as the conspiracy was concerned.

As it was, Fyren knew the summons he'd received were part of that. Tarven wanted to get a measure of what he would do now. Sure enough, upon entering the room, that was the question that followed the mandatory greeting.

The young lord regarded him solemnly, surrounded by the pass of papers he had strewn across his desk. He looked on the verge of being swamped.

He picked up one particular document, which had at sketch of the crest of the Aering Knights on one of its corners.

"I need to know where you stand, Fyrendir, and what your plans will be now that my father is dead. I don't want to make any assumptions."

Fyren frowned a little, having become unaccustomed to being called my his true name. It was a strange thought, to think he was more familiar with being a 'commoner' than with being a prince.

He pulled a chair from the side of the room and seated himself, his casual posture adding a physical emphasis to his reply. A reply to state he wasn't going anywhere.

"Your father told me I needed to wait until Cenrid is dead, and so I will. I swore to him I wouldn't be reckless and charge off stupidly, just as I swore not to stoop to Cenrid's tactics and kill that bastard myself. Then again, I think the two are related. Trying to get that close to him would be suicide."

Tarven sighed, nodding.

"Then I can give you some good news... You are to take your pick from the men among our trusted circle of supporters, to replace the three Aering Knights that were lost... and also to form a _second _squad." He passed the document to Fyren, looking at it revealing it was a note in Hargren's handwriting. "You are to train them as you see fit. My father has conveyed his wishes. When Cenrid is dead, the first squad of the Aering Knights will be _yours_. They will become your Knights of Escetia, to help you reclaim the throne for your family, and to stand by you once you succeed. When that time comes, the second squad will take up the duties and patrols that the first squad presently does."

Fyren stared at the note, then raising his head to look at Tarven in surprise.

"The current Aering Knights will be mine to command?"

Tarven nodded

"My father promised to give you aid in taking back Escetia when the time came, and I will hold to his promise. Every one of those men would gladly follow you into death, and I know that when they learn you are the Prince of Escetia that will not change. If anything, their determination to follow you will likely grow even stronger."

Fyren bowed his head, sighing with a hint of sorrow and then smiling.

"He always has been a man of his word." He rose to his feet, returning the chair to where he'd gotten it from and then facing Tarven. "I'll get to work on it right away. I already know the names of all the Ulwin Guard, and I have a few I've had in mind as possible knights. The First Squad will be ready to resume duties by the end of next week. The Second Squad will take longer, but if you can find me some more good men to pick from, so I won't have to deplete the guard, I should have something useful pulled together in a few months."

He strode out of the study, determined and with renewed purpose. With Hargren gone, that was what they all needed right now. Something to strive for, for the sake of the future he'd placed so much value in. Come hell or high water, the Conspiracy was going to thrive.

~(-)~

**Alaia Skyhawk: Much shorter than the other two, but there wasn't much left to cover. Now there's only one episode left of this fic, three chapters, and I'm going to post an ep of Destiny before I do that one.**

**Happy reading :D**


	67. An End and a Beginning 'Part 1'

**Alaia Skyhawk: Here is is, the final episode of this fic. This story has had its happy moments and its tragedies, and now it is drawing to its close. But I'm not sad, because many of the characters from here will be appearing again from the Season 4 part of my series onwards. It's going to be an interesting ride :)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Merlin TV series etc, but I do own the OCs of this fic.**

**Music: Hear Our Prayer (Yuki Kajiura)**

~(-)~

Chapter 67: An End and a Beginning ~Part 1~

Oh how a few months could change it all...

The death of Hargren, from injuries suffered at the hands of Cenrid's men, was a much an ill omen as they'd dreaded. Cenrid had broken the truce, the accord was no more. Morgana had been found, and yet in the wake of that such darkness had seemed to wash in from the east. A king suddenly turned to delirium, a sudden siege by forces that had swept past and crushed the Rillen Fortress and the town beside it. And then news arriving later that the king's illness had been the work of magic. For over a year there had been no magical attacks, and then suddenly a major assault by the King of Escetia, an attack aided and supported by at least one powerful sorcerer.

Tarven ran a hand through his hair, reading through the reports from the Aering Knights. In the two weeks since then, he'd had Fyren out on constant patrols looking for further signs of magical threats. But tensions had still been running high, and he was still on edge. Only now that he was leader of the Conspiracy could he truly appreciate the work his father had put into it. Work made possible by delegating the majority of domestic matters to Liam... which was part of the problem that he now had.

Liam was scared of him, or at least too cautious of him to trust and work with him as he had with Hargren. He was still getting his work done, he wasn't making any errors, but the underlying edge remained. The two of them just didn't get along, not in the way the Conspiracy needed.

Beside him, seated at the end of the desk as she'd done so often for her husband, was his mother. Jancine watched him, her expression concerned and saddened, she knew the problem as well as he did.

"He'll never mesh with you like he did with your father, you're realising that now. Why else have you been making sure Tabar can fill his role?"

Tarven flinched, glancing at her.

"As much as I dislike Liam on a personal level, I still respect his efforts and my father's trust and confidence in him. I won't betray my father's belief in him by casting him aside. Tabar has just been helping him out, with his workload being so much bigger the past few weeks."

Jancine sighed, reaching out and placing a hand on his.

"You know that Ulwin is no longer the best place for him. If he stays here it will only be difficult for you, and make him miserable."

"And what do you suggest I do then?"

His mother looked at the map on the wall, eyes coming to rest upon the castle symbol that marked the heart of the kingdom.

"Give him a fresh start. Recommend him to Uther, and send him to Camelot with high praises. There he will be able to begin again, without his close ties to your father overshadowing you both." She went quiet for a moment. "And if he doesn't ask Hana to go with him, I'll do what I wanted to do a long time ago. I'll take her in as an assistant to Clara, and keep her safe. He's never really found his feet since he lost Kalem, and I'm starting to believe he never will if he stays here. This isn't where he's meant to be, not if he's to find true belief in himself. He needs to be challenged by a new place and new people, maybe then he will."

Tarven too looked at the map.

"Do you really think that would be what's best for the Conspiracy? He's never been really involved in the heart of our work, but he's still the one that made much of it possible."

Jancine bowed her head, then gave him a smile.

"It's not necessarily what's best for the Conspiracy, but it's what's best for him. He deserves to be rewarded what he has made possible, even if it may not look like a reward. Free him from our burdens, and let him find a path of his own. Georg and Catherine can keep an eye on him."

Tarven went quiet, his gaze moving to look at the small table where Liam had sat and worked for almost every day for the best part of ten years, and clenched his hand where it lay on the desk.

"Guard." The door opened, the guard outside looking in. "I require the presence of Liam Morranson. Find him and ask him to come here at once."

The door closed again, Jancine turning to her son.

"You're doing the right thing."

"Maybe, but Liam isn't going to see it that way."

~(-)~

How could this be happening? What had he done to deserve this? What had he done wrong?

Liam paused in his packing, staring blankly at the meagre array of belongings laid out on his bed. He was still reeling with shock, feeling utterly lost. He was being sent away, to Camelot, and not even the letter of recommendation or the money he'd been given could make him see it as anything but an excuse to get rid of him. Part of him knew it couldn't be that, Lady Jancine would not be standing by letting this happen if it were, but it still felt like it. It felt like he was being abandoned...

He slumped to his knees and started to laugh at himself quietly. How could he honestly be so weak? He was twenty-one years old, nearing twenty-two, and yet he was moping like a small child. Never in all his life had he felt so pathetic, and he was the only one to blame.

Liam returned to his feet, roughly shoving the last of his possessions and clothing into his bags and shouldering them. He headed out of his room for the last time, trudging his way through the manor for what might be the last time, and went to the stables. He'd been told his escort would be waiting for him there, but he wasn't expecting much. The better the escort, the higher the regard the previous employer was showing for the servant when they went to their new one. He was probably just going to have one of the regular soldiers waiting for him, and he certainly didn't expect what he was confronted with when he arrived there.

Timothe and three other men from Tarven's _personal guard _waved to him, stood ready with the horses and smiling. Four of the Lord of Ulwin's most trusted men, four conspiracy members, all of whom were a friend of his to a certain degree. It was enough to make Liam stop in his tracks and bite his lip in an attempt not to start crying.

Timothe came over to him, relieving him of the bags.

"Come on, let's get going. Word's been sent on ahead to Georg and Catherine, to tell them to look out for you. You have your letter of recommendation?"

Liam nodded numbly.

"Y-yeah, I do."

The guardsman patted him on the shoulder.

"Then everything will be fine. Do you want to stop by and speak to Hana before you leave?"

The young servant went still, his expression conflicted. Did he want to speak to her? Could he face her after being such a coward all this time? How many times had he backed out of asking her to marry him? Too many to count... He didn't deserve to see her, and to be quiet truthful he doubted he could face her. He'd probably break down if he tried.

"No, let's just go. I don't need to speak to anyone."

Timothe and the rest of the escort glanced at each other, but none of them forced the issue. Instead Liam's bags were split between them to spread the weight, and the servant was helped up onto one of Yale's finest horses from the recent group he'd finished training.

The group rode out through the manor gates, more than a few individuals stopping to watch them pass. Liam was probably one of the best known faces to the people of Ulwin. The child who had lost almost his entire family to bandit raid and suicide, who had gone missing for five years only to return too late to reunite with his brother. The now young man who had then served Hargren until the lord's death, as trusted servant and assistant. If Hargren's death had changed Ulwin in a large way, Liam's departure would still change it even if not in so significant a way. The town just wasn't going to be the same without him.

It was after they'd passed out the southern gate, and were nearing where the road would pass through an area of trees, that Timothe spoke again.

"Last chance to look back, Liam. Ulwin will be out of view in a moment. Don't you want to wave it farewell?"

Liam horse hesitated even as he did, before he nudged it in the ribs to get it moving again.

"What would be the point? I didn't wave it goodbye the last time I ran away from it, so why should I this time?"

His words earned him a concerned stare from all four men, but he ignored them. He'd ran away from waiting for Alan back then, and this time he was running away from Hana. He had no right to look back, and at the same time could not bear to bid the town farewell. So long as he never said goodbye to it, he'd still feel like he could return. So long as he never said goodbye, he'd feel bound to to at least visit again someday.

~(-)~

**Alaia Skyhawk: Poor Liam, but of course this is the start of something much bigger for him. Two chapters to go, just two, and he'll be set for a path he'd never in his dreams expect to get involved in :)**


	68. An End and a Beginning 'Part 2'

**Alaia Skyhawk: And at long last, Liam finds himself in Camelot. His life will never be the same again :)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Merlin TV series etc, but I do own the OCs of this fic.**

**Music: Hear Our Prayer (Yuki Kajiura)**

~(-)~

Chapter 68: An End and a Beginning ~Part 2~

He couldn't help the sense of awe he felt when he saw it, the towers of the castle at Camelot lit by the rising sun, and the city sprawled around its northern side. It was both daunting and inspiring, both calling him in and making him want to run back to Ulwin. He felt a hand reach out and clasp his shoulder, Timothe tightening that grip supportively.

"There are good people here, Liam. I'm sure you'll make friends, close friends, or so I hope. If you don't, then Fyren might just come storming to the city to ask why."

Liam had to snort with laughter at that, being all to able to picture it, but his smile quickly faded.

"Why was I really sent here? Did Tarven do it just to get rid of me?"

Another of the escort shrugged, shaking his head.

"Nothing has been said to us, but everyone in the Conspiracy know things have been tense between you two since Lord Hargren died. Maybe he decided to send you here, to be another set of eyes helping Georg and Catherine."

Liam felt better for a moment at hearing that, but then slumped a little when he thought about it.

"Can't be, or he'd have told me. There's no point in sending a spy, if you don't tell them they _are_ are spy."

The hand on his shoulder tightened again.

"Then maybe you're being given a chance to be yourself. You're one of the most long-standing members of the Conspiracy in it's current form. You've been part of it since you were just a kid, and worked for Hargren all this time. If anything, you've practically lived in a cage. A nice one, but still a cage and your path still planned out for you. Now you get to pick your own."

Liam looked at him.

"Do you think so?"

"Why else would Lady Jancine _not _throw a fit at Tarven sending you here?"

Liam laughed again at that, more genuinely this time as he again looked at the city.

"Maybe you're right. Come on, I'll race you to the gates!"

Four guardsmen were left sat there in shock when Liam suddenly charged ahead on his horse, forced to send their own scrambling after him. But it did make them smile when they caught up, that he was starting to think about the opportunities of this instead of what he'd been made to leave behind. His more confident mood did fade though when they arrived at the castle stables, when he realised just how many of the stable hands were staring at this servant who warranted enough approval to be escorted by _four_ of the Ulwin Guard, the elite guardsmen of the Lord of Ulwin.

Timothe had to hide a small wince at that, when he passed Liam his bags and the servant's horse was tied to a lead rein by one of the others. This was as far as he could go with him.

"This is where we part ways. Good luck, and safe days, Liam. Make sure you keep in touch."

The four guardsmen rode away, leaving Liam stood there until a voice at his shoulder made him turn. By the way the man behind him held himself, it was clear he was stablemaster.

"Servant sent on recommendation?"

Liam nodded, suddenly feeling small and nervous now that he was alone without anyone familiar.

"Um, yeah. I was the manservant of Lord Hargren, and then his son. Lord Tarven wrote my letter."

He pulled the folded letter, with it's obvious Ulwin Seal on it, out of one of his bags, and the stablemaster barked an order to one of his men nearby.

"Show him to the Chief of Staff, and make sure you get back here sharpish. This is no excuse to slack off."

The man in question nodded respectfully, but then directed a resentful glare at Liam as soon as the stablemaster was gone. He strode past the servant, coming close to shoving him as he did so.

"Pick up your stuff and keep up. I won't wait for you if you get left behind."

Liam did as he was told, remaining tactfully quiet. If there were really good people here, then this guy obviously wasn't one of them.

By the end of the day, after his assignment by an irritated chief of staff and being shown his room and all the key places he needed to know. It didn't take a genius to figure out that, when a stable hand and his buddy go out of their way to elbow you while you wait for food in the servant's dining hall, someone doesn't like you, and the two of them weren't alone. He sat by himself, aware of being stared at and talked about, and started to wish Tarven _had_ given him only the most low regarded of escorts. Being instantly placed to serve one of the newest Knights of Camelot, within an hour of arrival, did not make you a popular man.

~(-)~

Days passed, nothing changing during that first week of his new life here in Camelot. Sir Fernir, his new master, turned out to be a decent man and a reasonably respectful one. He'd been impressed to learn who his new servant's previous lords had been, and even more impressed by the swift and efficient way in which Liam got everything done, but there was one downside.

He also happened to be a noble who liked being bowed and scraped to, something his new servant hadn't had to do for a long time. It was just lucky Liam had chosen to use it right from the start until he got his new lord's measure, or likely the good first impression wouldn't have been so positive.

Liam sighed, heading from his tiny room up near the castle attics and all the way down to the ground floor where the kitchens were located. Georg and Catherine, as promised, had spoken to him the day after he'd gotten here, but since then he'd found himself feeling strangely isolated, and he quickly realised why.

When you're no longer at the heart of a conspiracy, no longer performing important tasks like he'd been doing by sorting out the domestic issues in the Ulwin Manor, all of a sudden life becomes very quiet. He was being kept busy, certainly with the tasks of cleaning and maintaining Sir Fernir's armour and weapons, a task he'd never had to do before and such was being given a crash course in learning.

He'd been cut off from the Conspiracy, he knew that now. He could still get in touch with them if he wanted to, but otherwise he was no longer involved in anything they were doing. He'd been pushed right to the fringes, and undeniably he felt hurt by it.

His arrival at the kitchens went un-remarked upon, he was already starting to fade into the background of the most mundane of servants. He was bland, and quiet, and subservient, and already being trampled into obscurity beneath the bright and confident image of his Knight master. He was getting a new beginning all right, and starting right from the bottom of the proverbial ladder. He had a high-placed master, but he himself held no respect or influence here. He was a sitting target, and would be until his probation period was over, all those dragging weeks ahead into his future.

Liam sighed again, picking up a tray and loading it with the relevant plates and things, listening as some of the servants in here gossiped about the commander in charge of patrols being chewed out for missing a group of bandits. Apparently they'd attacked the prince and the hunting party he'd been with, and if that was true then it was no wonder the man was getting reprimanded for it.

Shaking his head to himself at that thought, he was just about to take his turn at the table where the sliced bread was when a man with short, dark hair cut in front of him to snatch some and hurry to where the cheese was laid out. In fact Liam was all set to call out in complaint at the temerity of it all, when the scullery maid at the table poked him on the arm to stop him.

"Mind your step, probationer. That's Merlin, Prince Arthur's manservant. The prince comes first before all other nobles but his father, so his manservant can cut in front of any of us except those that are assigned to the king. Don't take it personally, he's just doing his job."

Liam looked back to the man in question, watching as Merlin collected cheese, ham, and something from one of the barrels of drink at the far side of the kitchens. The other servant then left with what was clearly practised ease, slipping around other servants without so much as rattling a single thing on his tray.

When he was gone, Liam quickly finished collecting the food for his master and set off to deliver it, enduring the gauntlet to reach the nobles' wing. Thinking about what he'd just learnt, he felt a pang of envy towards Merlin, that the other servant had such a high-ranking role when his role has plummeted from what it was in Ulwin.

He was at the bottom of the ladder, and that man, Merlin, was right near the top, a place Liam couldn't deny that right now he'd like to be.

~(-)~

**Alaia Skyhawk: And he meets Merlin (sort of) for the first time! One chapter to go! I'll see about posting it after I get back from the charity event I'm waitressing at. That is if I'm not too tired after that to write it :)**


	69. An End and a Beginning 'Part 3'

**Alaia Skyhawk: Well here it is, the final chapter of Whom History Won't Remember. Time to show one final bit summarising Liam's first few weeks in Camelot. This is going to be short, more an epilogue of his thoughts and views on certain events, but after starting this like a regular chapter and finding I didn't like it, I've started over and done it this way. The other way just rambled around too much, when I want to have a clean, crisp ending :)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Merlin TV series etc, but I do own the OCs of this fic.**

**Music: Flying through the country (Folk Song)**

~(-)~

Chapter 69: An End and a Beginning ~Part 3~

_"Liam Morranson, the chief of staff wants to see you."_

He walked through the castle hallways, green eyes thoughtful beneath recently trimmed blond hair, hearing the bustle of gossip about what had just happened prior to the melee, yet another assassination attempt against the prince. He'd been here just over a month now, and was still in his probation period. He just had to hope he wasn't about to get into trouble.

Like Merlin had...

He frowned a little, remembering it. High-placed people coming down with mysterious afflictions. A king losing his hair, he, his ward, and her maid embarrassed in front of the court by a humiliating bout of flatulence. Merlin accused of sorcery by his own guardian, the Court Physician. The servant's counter-accusation that the physician was possessed by a goblin, his arrest, and then his inexplicable escape from the dungeons.

Liam had to admit he'd been surprised at how easily Merlin appeared to have done it. An unconscious guard and an open cell door were all he'd left behind him when he had. He'd wondered how Merlin, if he _was_ the source of the magical ailments, had managed to hex Prince Arthur when that happened the following day, but then the following morning it was _Merlin_ who had openly gone before the king and the court, with the Court Physician, carrying an _audibly_ complaining cylindrical box.

He'd followed them out of sheer surprise, and snuck into the back of the council chambers to listen as Gaius confirmed the box contained the goblin Merlin had spoken of, and that his ward was the victim of a malicious framing by the creature after it discovered he knew it was in control of his guardian. Liam again had to admit something else at that point, that he felt glad for Merlin as well as guilty for seeing it as an opportunity for advancement when he'd been arrested.

Liam sighed, thinking about his own master. Serving Sir Fernir wasn't all that bad, but he really had sunk into the background among all the other staff because of it. He missed Ulwin; missed the smiles and nods of recognition he'd gotten from everyone back at the manor. He missed his friends, like Fyren, Yale, and Clara. He missed Forwin's gruff manner, that he hid his kindness beneath. He missed the visits from Nellan, and being able to ask how his clan were doing. Catherine went out of her way to be kind to him whenever he was down at the laundry, she'd even invited him to have supper at her house one evening, but it was a poor substitute. He didn't know her well enough for it not to end up stiff and formal, and that evening had been awkward even if he had enjoyed it.

He bowed his head, feeling a touch of resentment. Merlin had everything that he had lost; close friends, respect, a high-ranked position among the staff. And since Liam's arrival in Camelot, that position had gotten even higher. He remembered clearly, standing in the laundry collecting some of Sir Fernir's clothing, when a maid had come rushing in with urgent and shocking news for all the servants in there.

_'__Prince Arthur's manservant, Merlin! He's been made a Trusted Retainer!'_

Liam frowned again. A Trusted Retainer, a commoner given the right to have their word carry the weight of a noble. A commoner whose word would be taken seriously, and would be permitted to accuse a noble of wrongdoing so long as they had proof to back it up. What had made the event so shocking was that just a few days before that, Merlin had been _arrested_ under accusation of sorcery. But then he was rewarded for his capture of the goblin, with that in addition to the pardon he'd already received.

It was enough confuse anyone.

He shook his head, looking up to see he was almost to the office of the chief of the castle staff. All these odd events, the odd impression he'd gotten of Merlin during the times he'd seen him around the castle. That the other servant had become such an untouchable figure for anyone among the staff was almost unbelievable. He was supposed to be lazy and clumsy, if the regular remarks from Prince Arthur were any indication, and yet he'd held his job for over three years now. If a man like Merlin could climb so high, then maybe he still had a chance to do the same.

He reached the office, knocking on the door and going in. The man behind the desk looked in a foul mood, enough so to make him hesitate to approach him, but he did it anyway. If he didn't, what was to say it wouldn't cause him to be sacked.

"You wanted to see me, Sir?"

The Chief of Staff regarded him with a hint of dislike, scowling somewhat as he pushed aside the document he'd been reading.

"You're being temporarily reassigned for this week. I've appointed someone to tend to Sir Fernir in your place. From tomorrow morning, until his regular servant can return to service, you are to attend to the needs of Prince Arthur."

Liam went rigid, staring in shock.

"W-what? Prince Arthur? But what about Merlin?"

The Chief of Staff started to grumble.

"Merlin injured his leg while exposing the assassins to protect the prince at the melee earlier. The Court Physician requires that his ward rest, and let his leg heal for the next week before returning to his duties. In light of him saving the prince's life, the king was happy to approve it."

Merlin was temporarily out of action, and _he_ was being drafted in to take his place. Liam was still staring.

"But... why pick me to fill in for him?"

"Because... Out of all the other useless drivel I have to pick from, you're the one with the most experience serving those of high rank. Ten years, serving the Lord of Ulwin, is not a history that any of you fellows can compete with." He thudded a hand down on his desk, making Liam flinch. "Now get out of my sight, and make sure you aren't late attending to the prince in the morning."

Liam beat a hasty retreat, coming to a wide-eyed stop outside the office when the implications of all this sank in.

He was going to be serving _Prince Arthur_ for the next week! A jump from a reasonably high-ranked role to _the third highest among the entire staff._ For one whole week, only the king's two servants would outrank him, that is if he conveniently ignored that Merlin still did.

Clenching his fists, a determined glint forming in his eyes, Liam started to smile to himself. Here was a chance to prove himself, to earn some respect among the servants, and maybe even get himself a better position afterwards. All he had to do was be the best servant he could possibly be, try and out do Merlin's normal standards, and impress Prince Arthur. After all, Merlin was supposed to be a bit of a slacker when he could get away with it.

That thought in his mind, Liam strode away down the hall with the smile still on his face. Maybe this was a new beginning for him, a _real_ new beginning. And he, Liam Morranson, besting Merlin to get a better position for himself?

Seriously, given talk about the other servant, how hard could it be?

~(-)~

**Alaia Skyhawk: Hehehe, I like this ending much better than my deleted attempt. This, of course, being a direct follow in to the scene in "Sick Leave" where Liam is introduced for the first time... and he proceeds to drive Arthur up the wall by being a **_**perfect**_** servant. It's been great fun writing this fic, and I hope you guys have all enjoyed it. All there is to do now is wish you all Happy Reading, and that I hope you enjoy the rest of my Merlin fics :)**


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